I am now officially done with finals, after finishing my last one a few hours ago. Its quite a relief, except for the fact that my grade gauge has been broken since I arrived, in better terms, I have zero idea of how I did in any of my spanish classes. The only grade I recieved I passed, but the remaining three I have recieved zero papers back, zero tests, or any indication that I will not have to retake my finals in the spring. It´s not a feeling I would like to grow accustomed to. Speaking of finals though, there is only one class that deserves a post; yet again my political theory class.
This is the class where I had to write the paper I´ve mentioned a few times. I gave it to my professor two days before I had to meet with him so he could read it over. I lied, I got some feedback on this paper. He was quite impressed with my construction. Since he obviously was not refering to my grammar, I concluded that liked the manner in which I constructed my arguement. After we talked about my paper we then proceeded to do my oral exam on the 750 page book I was required to read. Luckily, I read it. He tested me, and though I knew all the answers, expressing that to him was at times a challenge, but he clearly understood I read the book, thank goodness. I thought that I was off the hook, he let me believe that until we got to class. He then asked me to give my presention on my paper, which I knew I was going to have to do. I wrapped that up in about 10 minutes, when he proceeded to then ask me to give these graduate students a lesson on writing an argumenative paper. He then pulled up me paper on the overhead and made me explain to the class that yes, you actually have to devise your own argument and prove it with others theories. Apparently this is a new research method to these students, as plagarism and regurgitation are normal means of filling words on papers. Finally I was taken off the stand only with enough time for me to get to my seat before he realized "musclos, you are leaving before our debate next month. You need to participate in a debate before you leave". I quickly tried getting out of it, to no avail. He declared that it would be me vs the class, as I was the only one going to be graded. I am literally terrified at this point. How about we talk about, arms control in the US. How about NOT.
I knew that he was choosing this topic in light of recent events that have happened back home. However, I quickly figured out that my classmates, thank goodness, were not aware of these incidents, and the most recent trama they could recall was VT shootings. I wasn´t quite comfortable with talking about the arms control policy, but my job was to defend it, as I was being attacked left and right against it. Though I came up with a few valid arguments, I still pretty uneasy with the topic, simply because I haven´t solidifed my own feelings towards them. Being an American makes Europeans assume that I know quite a bit about our death penalty and arms policy--neither subject am I well versed on, but will look into upon arriving back home. Those are two things that America is known for, that and our lack of healthcare. Those are the topcis I am most frequently asked about as an American, nothing about Bush nor Iraq.
Being here however has made me realize things I really don´t know about home. I´ve learned quite a bit about home from being here, because people ask me questions I simlpy don´t know about America, and am frusterated enough to look them up. Its an uncanny feeling, but I like it at times, as not many people back home would press me for my American prespective. I only have three more days to take advantage of being a foreigner, so out into the streets I´ll go for my final few days.
Thursday, December 20, 2007
Friday, December 14, 2007
Paris, enchanté
Paris. I am glad that I decided before I left for Spain that I wanted to spend my longest vacation in Paris, because there is not a chance that I could have seen what I did of Paris in a weekend. We arrived in Paris Thursday night and struggled actually getting out of the airport, as their metro system was a bit overwhelming. Regardless, after a train, metro, and bus, we got to our hotel safe and sound, only to find out how much we really hated travelocity. When we received our boarding passes in the Bilbao airport, travelocity for some reason decided that it would be a gran idea to give Lindsey a child ticket. Being that she´s the oldest of everyone that went (4 of us on the plane) that didn´t work out so well, but luckily the lady at the desk was very understanding after I showed her my proof that yes indeed, I paid for four adult tickets. The hotel was a bit different. We booked a room for three double beds, as there were going to be five of us in the room. Travelocity thought that it would be a fun game to only book us in a room with two single beds. Not happy. Apparently travelocity does this frequently, and the hotel was very understanding, again after I showed them our proof, and gave us two rooms with two singles in each, and told us that they simply wouldn´t clean our room for our time there--perfect, I´d rather someone not go through my stuff anyways. If we had not dealt with such wonderful people, this would have been a big problem, speaking of which, I still need to send my remarks to travelocity.
Enough ripping into them. As it was late, and we were in the outskirts of the city, we decided to call it a night, and have an early morning. We woke up and first stop--Notre Dame. We decided that we wanted to see the city from the top of a building, and since Friday morning was the best weather forecast we had (meaning it was only blustering winds and freezing, no rain) we headed up the stairs to play with the gargoyles. They really are rather endearing creatures, I´ve come to quite enjoy them. I found a few that resembled people I know, so you may or may not be receiving pictures from my trip with you as a gargoyle.
After Notre Dame we decided to head over to the Luxembourg gardens, which were really quite nice. The statues that lined the sidewalks had quite animated expressions, I quite liked them. We finally found a grocery store so that we could buy the weekends breakfast. Our hunt for the grocery store was quite nice actually, minus the pouring rain, as we had to venture INTO Paris to find one. Realizing that we were going to have to bring all our food into the Louvre, which at the time we were debating would be allowed, we purchased only the essentials: granola bars and drinks.
Yet we managed to smuggle these treats into the Louvre without a problem. "It´s just like it looks in that movie about Da Vinci". Yes, there were American´s everyone, and yes, by chance, one of them did put the pieces together that this was indeed the glass prism that was in that movie, with those actors, about that code. We entered directly in through the glass doors, and were taken out of the long line, because guess what, Friday nights are free for students. Perfect, save money, and get more time in the museum. First stop, who else? Mona Lisa here we come. It wasn´t hard to find as any directional sign pointed towards her. After actually seeing her, I am now completely confused about art. What on earth makes this painting one of the worlds most famous pieces? And that painting itself is really quite small. Someone one day will probably give some factual reasoning to why she´s so grand, but I won´t believe them, as I left rather unimpressed. Don´t get me wrong, its a cool painting, but honestly, other pieces within that same room I fancied more. Which says a lot, because out of the literally blocks (as in neighborhood blocks) worth of paintings they could have put in that room, they did not put in ones that made the Mona Lisa stand out. My favorite piece in the whole place was Hammurabi's´s Code, though the inscriptions were rather worn, and my ancient language ability is fluent, I think it said something about an eye for an eye.
The Louvre exhausted me, as artwork normally does, paintings especially really baffle me. Oh well. We jumped on a few metro lines and a bus and return back to the hotel safe and sound.
If it hadn´t been absolutely pouring we would have headed to Versailles, but assumed that the grounds would be far more magnificent in better weather, and thus we remained in the city limits. Aux Champs-Elysées, aux Champs-Elysées, Au soleil, sous la pluie, à midi ou à minuit, Il y a tout ce que vous voulez aux Champs-Elysées. Thank you Madame Carr. I think that my friends officially hated me after signing that every five minutes, I had it in my head all weekend. However, our first stop was indeed the Champs-Elysées. We meet up with one of our friends, who showed us around the area, and as she was raving about this one particular pastry shop, we then decided it would be a shame if we didn´t have a delicious, apparently worldly know, pastry. Sadly however, the smell of pastry shops makes me quite queasy. As me how and I couldn´t tell you for the life of me, as I happened to quite enjoy sugar and sweets, but pastries are a bit much, so though everyone got their delactable treats, I opted to watch them enjoy.
As they were eating their treats we parked ourselves right outside L´Arc de Triomphe. I probably should have known this before, but I was unaware that the Arc houses France´s tomb of the unknown solider. The flame on the site is quite powerful, because neither the tree-toppling winds or the piercing rain could smother it. There wasn´t actually too much to see at the Arc, so we headed out to the Moulin Rouge, a place apparently better suited for college girls during the day. We strolled through the theatre district, and got quite lost looking for the Sacre Coeur, as every time we took out our maps it was a fight against the wind and attempting to block the rain from destroying them was near impossible as well, since the bloody weather broke EVERY SINGLE one of our umbrellas. I guess that means I´ll have less to pack on my way home. After I had a few people endearing laugh at my french, I suppose I can´t blame them as it now as a Spanish accent, we found the Sacre Coeur. A few staircases later we were finally inside. Shelter from the storms at last! This is supposed to be one of the best views in the city, but we literally could not even see the road below us through the rain and fog. Sacre Coeur itself is actually a dedication to the many soldiers lives given in wars beginning in the French Revolution and I believe ending with the Franco-Prussian War. Apparently there was quite the contest in designing the Basilica, as over 75 architects submitted designs. The Basilica is dedicated to the soldiers of WWI. A little fact, the organ that is now in there, one of the largest in the world, was taken from Biarritz, a place I hear is great if you want to pop in and have lunch.
Anyways as we quite enjoyed the warmth the church provided, we realized we ourselves were quite hungry and headed down the hill in search of food. It didn´t take long as we found a place within minutes. That's one of the wonderful things about Paris, is that you find great little places everywhere. I thoroughly enjoyed my dinner, but dessert was the best I have had since I have been in Europe. Homemade ice-cream, hot caramel, in a dessert crêpe, fantastic concoction. So good that I order another.
Our next stop on the agenda was seeing Paris lit up for Christmas, which I know you must be thinking cannot be that hard. However, there are some places more tastefully done than others, and thus that´s where the wind, literally blew us. We saw wonderful lights, and numerous Christmas performances in the window shops were mannequins generally stand guard. Between that and hearing Christmas songs, I have not been able to stop thinking about Christmas, very favorite time of the year. Another wonderful day in Paris.
Sunday´s in Bilbao are a joke: nothing is open. Nothing. Paris on the other hand, was full steam ahead. We headed out to the Bastille, and next to the monument we found a wonderful market. I tested a raspberry, was in heaven, and bought a box of them, which I consumed entirely before we even left the market--at least it was something healthy. We played in the market for quite some time, a bit of a different experience than my Moroccan adventure, but wonderful nonetheless.
We then realized we´d been in Paris for a few days, and everyone had a significant amount of Christmas shopping to do, so we spent a few hours wandering through the Christmas markets being tempted in by wonderful homemade crafts, that we discovered were "Made in China", honestly tell me that was a hand blown ornament one more time and I might believe you, only when you divulge that it was handcrafted by a seven year old. On our voyage through the city, we found a road that looks exactly like a road in Lexington, MA where the Balloon Shop (my grandmother´s toy store) once stood. It was a bit of a déjà vu.
We could not help but stop for crêpes again--it was our last day in Paris. Scrumptious little buggers they are. We enjoyed our crepes and headed for the Musée d'Orsay, my preference of the two art museums. This is the home to the French Impressionists, holding Monet, Renoir, Manet, Degas, Van Gogh, pretty much this place is an easy way to drop artistic names. I raced upstairs to Van Gogh, unrealistically hoping that Starry Night would be there. Crushed I was faced with others in the series. Quite far from crushed actually, as I enjoy nearly all of this work, at least the selected pieces I´ve seen. Once we covered the impressionists we noticed that Gaudi was on the map as well. He is a Spanish architect who has quite a few famous constructions in Barcelona. We then meandered over to his room to find furniture. One of his mirrors made it into the Musée d'Orsay, how fitting.
Saving the most monumental for last, I´ll mention this hunk of steel that blinds you at night. We visited the most paid monument in the world, The Eiffle Tower. Apparently Barcelona was out of the loop in the 19th century, because the plan was to have it constructed there for the Universal Exposition of 1888. Maybe they didn´t think it went with Gaudi´s architecture, who knows, but they refused it, and so the plans were sent to Paris. The tower was the entrance arch for the Exposition Universelle, a World's Fair marking the centennial celebration of the French Revolution, in 1889 the year of it´s completion. All of this was news to me. Perhaps I didn´t remember as much about French History as I pretended to before our trip. The elevator ride up was a bit terrifying for me, as I don´t do well with heights or my stomach dropping. The ride was probably as smooth as can be, but my nerves still turned it around enough for me to feel its every movement. We made it up the north tower quite quickly and was at the top just in time for the hourly light show. It sparkles every hour for ten minutes at night. Quite pretty from afar, rather blinding when you´re on it. The bright lights and lack of view killed it for me, and I escaped down the elevator sooner than I probably should have. I´ll be back.
Our numerous metro changes and bus stops allowed us to have quite the recap of our Parisian adventure, one we all concurred was a fantastic way to end the semester. But like I said, I´ll be back.
Enough ripping into them. As it was late, and we were in the outskirts of the city, we decided to call it a night, and have an early morning. We woke up and first stop--Notre Dame. We decided that we wanted to see the city from the top of a building, and since Friday morning was the best weather forecast we had (meaning it was only blustering winds and freezing, no rain) we headed up the stairs to play with the gargoyles. They really are rather endearing creatures, I´ve come to quite enjoy them. I found a few that resembled people I know, so you may or may not be receiving pictures from my trip with you as a gargoyle.
After Notre Dame we decided to head over to the Luxembourg gardens, which were really quite nice. The statues that lined the sidewalks had quite animated expressions, I quite liked them. We finally found a grocery store so that we could buy the weekends breakfast. Our hunt for the grocery store was quite nice actually, minus the pouring rain, as we had to venture INTO Paris to find one. Realizing that we were going to have to bring all our food into the Louvre, which at the time we were debating would be allowed, we purchased only the essentials: granola bars and drinks.
Yet we managed to smuggle these treats into the Louvre without a problem. "It´s just like it looks in that movie about Da Vinci". Yes, there were American´s everyone, and yes, by chance, one of them did put the pieces together that this was indeed the glass prism that was in that movie, with those actors, about that code. We entered directly in through the glass doors, and were taken out of the long line, because guess what, Friday nights are free for students. Perfect, save money, and get more time in the museum. First stop, who else? Mona Lisa here we come. It wasn´t hard to find as any directional sign pointed towards her. After actually seeing her, I am now completely confused about art. What on earth makes this painting one of the worlds most famous pieces? And that painting itself is really quite small. Someone one day will probably give some factual reasoning to why she´s so grand, but I won´t believe them, as I left rather unimpressed. Don´t get me wrong, its a cool painting, but honestly, other pieces within that same room I fancied more. Which says a lot, because out of the literally blocks (as in neighborhood blocks) worth of paintings they could have put in that room, they did not put in ones that made the Mona Lisa stand out. My favorite piece in the whole place was Hammurabi's´s Code, though the inscriptions were rather worn, and my ancient language ability is fluent, I think it said something about an eye for an eye.
The Louvre exhausted me, as artwork normally does, paintings especially really baffle me. Oh well. We jumped on a few metro lines and a bus and return back to the hotel safe and sound.
If it hadn´t been absolutely pouring we would have headed to Versailles, but assumed that the grounds would be far more magnificent in better weather, and thus we remained in the city limits. Aux Champs-Elysées, aux Champs-Elysées, Au soleil, sous la pluie, à midi ou à minuit, Il y a tout ce que vous voulez aux Champs-Elysées. Thank you Madame Carr. I think that my friends officially hated me after signing that every five minutes, I had it in my head all weekend. However, our first stop was indeed the Champs-Elysées. We meet up with one of our friends, who showed us around the area, and as she was raving about this one particular pastry shop, we then decided it would be a shame if we didn´t have a delicious, apparently worldly know, pastry. Sadly however, the smell of pastry shops makes me quite queasy. As me how and I couldn´t tell you for the life of me, as I happened to quite enjoy sugar and sweets, but pastries are a bit much, so though everyone got their delactable treats, I opted to watch them enjoy.
As they were eating their treats we parked ourselves right outside L´Arc de Triomphe. I probably should have known this before, but I was unaware that the Arc houses France´s tomb of the unknown solider. The flame on the site is quite powerful, because neither the tree-toppling winds or the piercing rain could smother it. There wasn´t actually too much to see at the Arc, so we headed out to the Moulin Rouge, a place apparently better suited for college girls during the day. We strolled through the theatre district, and got quite lost looking for the Sacre Coeur, as every time we took out our maps it was a fight against the wind and attempting to block the rain from destroying them was near impossible as well, since the bloody weather broke EVERY SINGLE one of our umbrellas. I guess that means I´ll have less to pack on my way home. After I had a few people endearing laugh at my french, I suppose I can´t blame them as it now as a Spanish accent, we found the Sacre Coeur. A few staircases later we were finally inside. Shelter from the storms at last! This is supposed to be one of the best views in the city, but we literally could not even see the road below us through the rain and fog. Sacre Coeur itself is actually a dedication to the many soldiers lives given in wars beginning in the French Revolution and I believe ending with the Franco-Prussian War. Apparently there was quite the contest in designing the Basilica, as over 75 architects submitted designs. The Basilica is dedicated to the soldiers of WWI. A little fact, the organ that is now in there, one of the largest in the world, was taken from Biarritz, a place I hear is great if you want to pop in and have lunch.
Anyways as we quite enjoyed the warmth the church provided, we realized we ourselves were quite hungry and headed down the hill in search of food. It didn´t take long as we found a place within minutes. That's one of the wonderful things about Paris, is that you find great little places everywhere. I thoroughly enjoyed my dinner, but dessert was the best I have had since I have been in Europe. Homemade ice-cream, hot caramel, in a dessert crêpe, fantastic concoction. So good that I order another.
Our next stop on the agenda was seeing Paris lit up for Christmas, which I know you must be thinking cannot be that hard. However, there are some places more tastefully done than others, and thus that´s where the wind, literally blew us. We saw wonderful lights, and numerous Christmas performances in the window shops were mannequins generally stand guard. Between that and hearing Christmas songs, I have not been able to stop thinking about Christmas, very favorite time of the year. Another wonderful day in Paris.
Sunday´s in Bilbao are a joke: nothing is open. Nothing. Paris on the other hand, was full steam ahead. We headed out to the Bastille, and next to the monument we found a wonderful market. I tested a raspberry, was in heaven, and bought a box of them, which I consumed entirely before we even left the market--at least it was something healthy. We played in the market for quite some time, a bit of a different experience than my Moroccan adventure, but wonderful nonetheless.
We then realized we´d been in Paris for a few days, and everyone had a significant amount of Christmas shopping to do, so we spent a few hours wandering through the Christmas markets being tempted in by wonderful homemade crafts, that we discovered were "Made in China", honestly tell me that was a hand blown ornament one more time and I might believe you, only when you divulge that it was handcrafted by a seven year old. On our voyage through the city, we found a road that looks exactly like a road in Lexington, MA where the Balloon Shop (my grandmother´s toy store) once stood. It was a bit of a déjà vu.
We could not help but stop for crêpes again--it was our last day in Paris. Scrumptious little buggers they are. We enjoyed our crepes and headed for the Musée d'Orsay, my preference of the two art museums. This is the home to the French Impressionists, holding Monet, Renoir, Manet, Degas, Van Gogh, pretty much this place is an easy way to drop artistic names. I raced upstairs to Van Gogh, unrealistically hoping that Starry Night would be there. Crushed I was faced with others in the series. Quite far from crushed actually, as I enjoy nearly all of this work, at least the selected pieces I´ve seen. Once we covered the impressionists we noticed that Gaudi was on the map as well. He is a Spanish architect who has quite a few famous constructions in Barcelona. We then meandered over to his room to find furniture. One of his mirrors made it into the Musée d'Orsay, how fitting.
Saving the most monumental for last, I´ll mention this hunk of steel that blinds you at night. We visited the most paid monument in the world, The Eiffle Tower. Apparently Barcelona was out of the loop in the 19th century, because the plan was to have it constructed there for the Universal Exposition of 1888. Maybe they didn´t think it went with Gaudi´s architecture, who knows, but they refused it, and so the plans were sent to Paris. The tower was the entrance arch for the Exposition Universelle, a World's Fair marking the centennial celebration of the French Revolution, in 1889 the year of it´s completion. All of this was news to me. Perhaps I didn´t remember as much about French History as I pretended to before our trip. The elevator ride up was a bit terrifying for me, as I don´t do well with heights or my stomach dropping. The ride was probably as smooth as can be, but my nerves still turned it around enough for me to feel its every movement. We made it up the north tower quite quickly and was at the top just in time for the hourly light show. It sparkles every hour for ten minutes at night. Quite pretty from afar, rather blinding when you´re on it. The bright lights and lack of view killed it for me, and I escaped down the elevator sooner than I probably should have. I´ll be back.
Our numerous metro changes and bus stops allowed us to have quite the recap of our Parisian adventure, one we all concurred was a fantastic way to end the semester. But like I said, I´ll be back.
Wednesday, December 5, 2007
It finally hit me.
Today was a pretty significant day for me. I had to get a new metro card today, as my old one ran out of uses. The machine was broken, so I had to talk to the securtiy guard. He walks over to the machine with me, and begins talking to me in English. I didn´t even know adults here could speak English, this was the first I had heard anyone over the age of 30 use English. He was explaining to me why it wasn´t working, then when I asked him a question, he looked utterly perplexed. Long story short, he was speaking in Spanish the whole time, I just happen to understand everything perfectly enough that I just presumed it was in English. I laughed at myself, responded in Spanish, and made it to close just in time after my delay. All in all, it was a pretty good day. Paris por la mañana en la mañana. Ciao. Besos.
Tuesday, December 4, 2007
Dinner table.
Alright, Mom, my request is that we do not have vingar in any meal for at least the first week that I am home, as I may have had enough of it to last me quite some time. That aside, dinner tonight was the best dinner I´ve had. Not food wise, though that wasn´t bad either, but the family was great. Dani, the youngest, found out today that I wasn´t staying for the year, and that I was leaving in three weeks. He then proceeded to eat dinner on my lap. Mind you, Dani doesn´t talk to me. He´s been scared of me since I arrived, but apparently his bashfulness entirely disappeared and wanted to know when I would be coming back to visit. Then the older one wanted us to do a photo shot--I told him he would need to put a shirt on, and I would have to change out of my sweatpants, so we opted to do one later. I hadn´t realized how much they were going to miss me, as I´ve pretty much felt like a tenant here most of the semester, aside from my señora waiting up until I arrive home at night. That makes me feel like home--just kidding mom and dad.
Though I´m off to Paris for a long weekend, I´ll have a decent amount of time to spend with the kids when I come back, as I won´t have too many classes, and some of my finals are as early as, gulp, a week from tomorrow. I´ll keep this on short, in case anyone is pressed for time, you should read my Morocco blog. Miss you all, and will see you in a few weeks.
Though I´m off to Paris for a long weekend, I´ll have a decent amount of time to spend with the kids when I come back, as I won´t have too many classes, and some of my finals are as early as, gulp, a week from tomorrow. I´ll keep this on short, in case anyone is pressed for time, you should read my Morocco blog. Miss you all, and will see you in a few weeks.
white houses--vanessa carelton
So much for ladies first. That concept is completely foreign to the culture of Casablanca, probably as foreign as the Casablanca culture was to me. Amanda, one of my American friends from Boston, and I traveled to Casablanca, Morocco last Friday. When we arrived at the airport, it was quite easy to get our passports stamped, which was good, because once we arrived, I realized I wouldn´t be making a scene if we hadn´t gotten them stamped. A few things we should have learned how to do before we arrived: cover our heads, not smile, not be offended. We learned to do the latter of the two, but never got the hang of properly tying the scarves over our heads, without looking like we were mocking them, so we went sans scarves for our adventure.
We immediately noticed the overwhelming male population as soon as we left our boarding gate. Men were everywhere, and women, if they existed, were with a man. Immediately we felt out of place, without a male escort. We knew that we had to catch a train to the city, which we could not pay for with a credit card, so we had to take out Durhams, the Moroccan currency. A Durham is about equivalent to 13 American cents, and thus when we had to pay 25 Durhams for a sandwich, it wasn´t too bad.
We then got in line to buy our train tickets. I should rephase that, we got into the flooding mass. Lines honestly, do not exist in Morocco, we didn´t see a single one. Instead we saw mobs, pushing themselves to the front of the "line", which was rather terrifying. Men were allowed, for the most part, to go before any woman, which caused us to miss our train because we couldn´t buy our tickets in time. Which was alright, as we needed that extra 30 minutes to recompose ourselves before we jumped on the train.
When I say jumped on the train, I mean just that. I don´t think the trains really ever stopped, and for the entire duration, the doors are open. Great. Also, we boarded the train in pitch black. We were in an unlit tunnel, and the train had no lights. We were second guessing what we had gotten ourselves into for the weekend.
We then met a gentleman on the train, who wanted to practice his English. We didn´t really have a choice as he was sitting right next to us. We took advantage and asked him some things about the city. He was rather informative, but at the same time had a hostel feeling towards the city. When we asked him what areas of the city we should try to avoid, and which ones were the most dangerous, he quickly retorted "all of them". Perfect.
Our train ride gave us an insight into the poverty we were expecting. The houses looked like they hadn´t been rebuilt since they were decimated in WWII--yet people were still living there. This was far different than the city itself. Casablanca is a city. The biggest in Morocco. It is dirty, and apparently dangerous. We had a preview into both of those, quickly.
We finally arrived at our destination, which was written and announced in Arabic, so we had to ask our friend where we should jump off. Luckily he told us the right station. We were rather glad to get off the train, as the man was making us both feel incredibly uncomfortable. We walk through the double doors to find rush of taxi drivers bombard us, throwing out prices in every language possible. We looked at each other and broke through them in a quick jog. We were then being followed, so we started to run. One even decided to follow us in his car, so we decided to sprint, while being heckled by every male on the roads. We found a back road, which was deserted to finally catch our breathe. Quickly realizing that the main roads would be preferable, we headed towards them. We had no map, nor any sense of direction. We knew our hotel was near the mosque and the ocean, but that meant little to us when we couldn´t see either, or read Arabic.
We were warned before we left that we should not address men without first being spoken to, and since cat-calls didn´t count, we opted not to speak with any of them. I decided that I took enough years of french to communicate what we needed to know, and began looking for women to ask. We found one, with her hair uncovered. Perfect. I ran over to her, asked her how to get to our hotel, and she immediately hailed a bus, and took us to our hotel, and pointed out places where we (as women) could get food. She was wonderful. Without her help, we would have had to hail a cab, which at the time, was petrifying. At the same time however, we knew that a cab would be better than the streets, which were virtually void of women, and grounds to be followed and groped.
When we got to our hotel, they gave us a wonderful room, which a perfect view of the city, as it was on the 9th floor. We oriented ourselves, finding the direction of both the ocean, mosque, and markets. When we left for the afternoon we asked if they had a map, which of course they did not. All they said was, be back before night fall. Great advice.
The markets were closest, so that was our first stop. They had everything. Raw fish, full sized cow carcases, shoes galore, jewelry, any type of wooden knick-knack, pretty much anything that you wanted, you could find in this market, which took us over an hour to find an exit, and we didn´t even retrace our steps. The market experience was interesting. All the vendors are men, who know that if they want us to buy something, they have to be relatively polite, so instead of the normal comments, we were not receiving the "upscale" ones such as "I like your sex". Honestly, that just completely wooed me. Really? Does that actually work? These vendors knew more languages than I could identify, which I thought was impressive, considering we were told that nearly no one in the generation above us had more than 5 years of schooling.
After we finally escaped the market we headed toward to ocean, passing numerous soccer matches in the streets, which of course, we were not allowed to play in. Boys only. We found the ocean, which had some of the biggest waves I have ever seen. Quiet impressive. We passed the Royal Moroccan Navy, which was heavily guarded, but housed some rather impressive ships. Though Casablanca is not the capital of Morocco, it is considered at least the economic capital, as it is far larger than any other city in Morocco, and the 6th largest in Africa.
Casablanca is home to this mosque that I keep referring to. The mosque is called Hassan II, named after the King who had it constructed. The construction stated not to long ago, 1986, and was built 24/7 until 1993 when it was completed enough to be inaugurated. It is the tallest mosque in the world, and the third largest. The best part is, we were allowed in, which is rare considering that we are not Muslim. Shoes off, headed in. We actually entered on Sunday morning, so I´m jumping around a bit, but we´re on the mosque topic, so why not.
The architecture definitely had some thought put into it. All of the materials used to build the mosque came from Morocco, with the exception of the chandeliers, and the white marble--both came from Italy. The main prayer room can hold 25,000 prayers, which is genially only filled during the Ramadan. At this time, the sliding roof opens, so that the prayers are more directly connected to Allah. The floor in many parts is glass, and as it is built over the ocean, you get quite a view of the water. Impressive needless to say. It kind of reminded me of Wright´s house built over the river.
The basement is for the washrooms, as they are required to wash three times before prayer. Separate fountains for men and women. The best part of these rooms were the pillars. They looked like white marble. Nope, wrong. They are cement covered in a combination of: sandstone, black sand, and egg yoke. This consistency absorbs humidity, so the washrooms are free of it--very important, as summers in Morocco are excruciatingly hot. The also have a public sauna/ Turkish bath, that is 5 feet deep, and looks knee Lent, very deceptive little pool. Over all, the mosque is impressive. Very impressive.
On Friday, we left the mosque after only taking a few pictures from the outside. This was a rare opportunity, as we were yelled at continuously every time we took out our cameras, thus I do not have as many pictures as I normally would. Sad.
So we left the mosque as the sun was setting, and were again, rather lost, so I began whipping out my french skills again, asking police officers for directions. We arrived at the hotel safe and exhausted. We headed to bed early so that we could catch the morning train to Rabat--Morocco´s political capital.
After having quite a large breakfast at the hotel (free food is always wonderful) we headed to the train station after negotiating with taxi drivers the price to get there. We jumped on our train to Rabat and found that the markets were the best things that they had to offer. Ready for the masses, we headed in. We were quite successful in bargaining, a skill I doubted I would ever obtain. It was easy. Walk away, and they lower the price. Give them your price, and come to an agreement. This was numerous as I couldn´t remember numbers in French. I understood the ones they were saying, but couldn´t formulate ones on my own--at first anyways. Therefore we ended up paying too much for our first purchase, a whole 2 Euros for a necklace. What were we thinking?!
We were rather hungry by mid afternoon and knew we needed to get something. We were a bit turned off by the fly infested market food, so we headed out to the main roads to find, gulp, a restaurant? The first dozen or so we passed were only men, per usual. We finally found one that not only had women, but had unescorted women. Perfect. We were fed, and off the the races we went again.
We now completely figured out our conversion rates, and what we were willing to pay for what, so we ventured back inside the labyrinth. A few 100 Durhams later, we were done. This was after meeting a wonderful man, who we spent about an hour with, talking all about our cultures. It was a great afternoon. We however, wanted to get back to Casablanca before sunset, so headed back to the train station, only after passing a protest.
Supermarket for dinner sounded good to us, as we didn´t want to wander the streets finding a suitable place to eat, so we lugged out grocery bags to the hotel, where we met our final friend. We asked the receptionist what time the mosque opened, and he didn´t know so he told us he would call them, then call our room. 5 minutes later he´s knocking on the door, which we entered, the shut behind him. Personally, I was a bit creeped out, especially after he sat down and started getting comfy. Well over an hour later, he finally left, after we told him that we´d meet him the following morning at 8am so he could show us around the city.
He seemed nice enough, but still, I was rather uneasy. However, the benefit of having a male escort for the day out weight my apprehension, so we met him at our designated location. He brought us to the mosque, where he prays daily. We toured it, while he got some breakfast. He then carted us around the city, paying for all our cab rides, and showing us everything that he loved. We talked about the generational differences between the women, and who and why they covered their heads. It was quite interesting actually. Though he knew some English, he preferred French, and therefore addressed me in French, quite often. Funny how quickly it came back.
As nice as he was, there was still an uneasy feeling, so Amanda and I lied about when our train was to get out of the rest of our tour. It backfired, as he came to the train station with us, and watched us board "our" train. It was going too fast to jump off by the time he stopped looking, so we ended up taking the train an hour early. Oh well. That gave us time to eat the Moroccan cakes we were given, as well as get some lunch. The mob-mentality was most pertinent at the airport, but the treatment of women was at least tolerable there. Therefore, we were safe, and ready to go home, and practice all the french we learned in Paris (where we´re going on Thursday).
Overall, it was quite an experience. Arabic/Islamic culture is now rather high on my list of things to investigate. Though it perplexes me, I´m intrigued. It was a good first experience into this foreign land. Next time though, I´ll opt to take an escort. And, learn how to cover my head.
We immediately noticed the overwhelming male population as soon as we left our boarding gate. Men were everywhere, and women, if they existed, were with a man. Immediately we felt out of place, without a male escort. We knew that we had to catch a train to the city, which we could not pay for with a credit card, so we had to take out Durhams, the Moroccan currency. A Durham is about equivalent to 13 American cents, and thus when we had to pay 25 Durhams for a sandwich, it wasn´t too bad.
We then got in line to buy our train tickets. I should rephase that, we got into the flooding mass. Lines honestly, do not exist in Morocco, we didn´t see a single one. Instead we saw mobs, pushing themselves to the front of the "line", which was rather terrifying. Men were allowed, for the most part, to go before any woman, which caused us to miss our train because we couldn´t buy our tickets in time. Which was alright, as we needed that extra 30 minutes to recompose ourselves before we jumped on the train.
When I say jumped on the train, I mean just that. I don´t think the trains really ever stopped, and for the entire duration, the doors are open. Great. Also, we boarded the train in pitch black. We were in an unlit tunnel, and the train had no lights. We were second guessing what we had gotten ourselves into for the weekend.
We then met a gentleman on the train, who wanted to practice his English. We didn´t really have a choice as he was sitting right next to us. We took advantage and asked him some things about the city. He was rather informative, but at the same time had a hostel feeling towards the city. When we asked him what areas of the city we should try to avoid, and which ones were the most dangerous, he quickly retorted "all of them". Perfect.
Our train ride gave us an insight into the poverty we were expecting. The houses looked like they hadn´t been rebuilt since they were decimated in WWII--yet people were still living there. This was far different than the city itself. Casablanca is a city. The biggest in Morocco. It is dirty, and apparently dangerous. We had a preview into both of those, quickly.
We finally arrived at our destination, which was written and announced in Arabic, so we had to ask our friend where we should jump off. Luckily he told us the right station. We were rather glad to get off the train, as the man was making us both feel incredibly uncomfortable. We walk through the double doors to find rush of taxi drivers bombard us, throwing out prices in every language possible. We looked at each other and broke through them in a quick jog. We were then being followed, so we started to run. One even decided to follow us in his car, so we decided to sprint, while being heckled by every male on the roads. We found a back road, which was deserted to finally catch our breathe. Quickly realizing that the main roads would be preferable, we headed towards them. We had no map, nor any sense of direction. We knew our hotel was near the mosque and the ocean, but that meant little to us when we couldn´t see either, or read Arabic.
We were warned before we left that we should not address men without first being spoken to, and since cat-calls didn´t count, we opted not to speak with any of them. I decided that I took enough years of french to communicate what we needed to know, and began looking for women to ask. We found one, with her hair uncovered. Perfect. I ran over to her, asked her how to get to our hotel, and she immediately hailed a bus, and took us to our hotel, and pointed out places where we (as women) could get food. She was wonderful. Without her help, we would have had to hail a cab, which at the time, was petrifying. At the same time however, we knew that a cab would be better than the streets, which were virtually void of women, and grounds to be followed and groped.
When we got to our hotel, they gave us a wonderful room, which a perfect view of the city, as it was on the 9th floor. We oriented ourselves, finding the direction of both the ocean, mosque, and markets. When we left for the afternoon we asked if they had a map, which of course they did not. All they said was, be back before night fall. Great advice.
The markets were closest, so that was our first stop. They had everything. Raw fish, full sized cow carcases, shoes galore, jewelry, any type of wooden knick-knack, pretty much anything that you wanted, you could find in this market, which took us over an hour to find an exit, and we didn´t even retrace our steps. The market experience was interesting. All the vendors are men, who know that if they want us to buy something, they have to be relatively polite, so instead of the normal comments, we were not receiving the "upscale" ones such as "I like your sex". Honestly, that just completely wooed me. Really? Does that actually work? These vendors knew more languages than I could identify, which I thought was impressive, considering we were told that nearly no one in the generation above us had more than 5 years of schooling.
After we finally escaped the market we headed toward to ocean, passing numerous soccer matches in the streets, which of course, we were not allowed to play in. Boys only. We found the ocean, which had some of the biggest waves I have ever seen. Quiet impressive. We passed the Royal Moroccan Navy, which was heavily guarded, but housed some rather impressive ships. Though Casablanca is not the capital of Morocco, it is considered at least the economic capital, as it is far larger than any other city in Morocco, and the 6th largest in Africa.
Casablanca is home to this mosque that I keep referring to. The mosque is called Hassan II, named after the King who had it constructed. The construction stated not to long ago, 1986, and was built 24/7 until 1993 when it was completed enough to be inaugurated. It is the tallest mosque in the world, and the third largest. The best part is, we were allowed in, which is rare considering that we are not Muslim. Shoes off, headed in. We actually entered on Sunday morning, so I´m jumping around a bit, but we´re on the mosque topic, so why not.
The architecture definitely had some thought put into it. All of the materials used to build the mosque came from Morocco, with the exception of the chandeliers, and the white marble--both came from Italy. The main prayer room can hold 25,000 prayers, which is genially only filled during the Ramadan. At this time, the sliding roof opens, so that the prayers are more directly connected to Allah. The floor in many parts is glass, and as it is built over the ocean, you get quite a view of the water. Impressive needless to say. It kind of reminded me of Wright´s house built over the river.
The basement is for the washrooms, as they are required to wash three times before prayer. Separate fountains for men and women. The best part of these rooms were the pillars. They looked like white marble. Nope, wrong. They are cement covered in a combination of: sandstone, black sand, and egg yoke. This consistency absorbs humidity, so the washrooms are free of it--very important, as summers in Morocco are excruciatingly hot. The also have a public sauna/ Turkish bath, that is 5 feet deep, and looks knee Lent, very deceptive little pool. Over all, the mosque is impressive. Very impressive.
On Friday, we left the mosque after only taking a few pictures from the outside. This was a rare opportunity, as we were yelled at continuously every time we took out our cameras, thus I do not have as many pictures as I normally would. Sad.
So we left the mosque as the sun was setting, and were again, rather lost, so I began whipping out my french skills again, asking police officers for directions. We arrived at the hotel safe and exhausted. We headed to bed early so that we could catch the morning train to Rabat--Morocco´s political capital.
After having quite a large breakfast at the hotel (free food is always wonderful) we headed to the train station after negotiating with taxi drivers the price to get there. We jumped on our train to Rabat and found that the markets were the best things that they had to offer. Ready for the masses, we headed in. We were quite successful in bargaining, a skill I doubted I would ever obtain. It was easy. Walk away, and they lower the price. Give them your price, and come to an agreement. This was numerous as I couldn´t remember numbers in French. I understood the ones they were saying, but couldn´t formulate ones on my own--at first anyways. Therefore we ended up paying too much for our first purchase, a whole 2 Euros for a necklace. What were we thinking?!
We were rather hungry by mid afternoon and knew we needed to get something. We were a bit turned off by the fly infested market food, so we headed out to the main roads to find, gulp, a restaurant? The first dozen or so we passed were only men, per usual. We finally found one that not only had women, but had unescorted women. Perfect. We were fed, and off the the races we went again.
We now completely figured out our conversion rates, and what we were willing to pay for what, so we ventured back inside the labyrinth. A few 100 Durhams later, we were done. This was after meeting a wonderful man, who we spent about an hour with, talking all about our cultures. It was a great afternoon. We however, wanted to get back to Casablanca before sunset, so headed back to the train station, only after passing a protest.
Supermarket for dinner sounded good to us, as we didn´t want to wander the streets finding a suitable place to eat, so we lugged out grocery bags to the hotel, where we met our final friend. We asked the receptionist what time the mosque opened, and he didn´t know so he told us he would call them, then call our room. 5 minutes later he´s knocking on the door, which we entered, the shut behind him. Personally, I was a bit creeped out, especially after he sat down and started getting comfy. Well over an hour later, he finally left, after we told him that we´d meet him the following morning at 8am so he could show us around the city.
He seemed nice enough, but still, I was rather uneasy. However, the benefit of having a male escort for the day out weight my apprehension, so we met him at our designated location. He brought us to the mosque, where he prays daily. We toured it, while he got some breakfast. He then carted us around the city, paying for all our cab rides, and showing us everything that he loved. We talked about the generational differences between the women, and who and why they covered their heads. It was quite interesting actually. Though he knew some English, he preferred French, and therefore addressed me in French, quite often. Funny how quickly it came back.
As nice as he was, there was still an uneasy feeling, so Amanda and I lied about when our train was to get out of the rest of our tour. It backfired, as he came to the train station with us, and watched us board "our" train. It was going too fast to jump off by the time he stopped looking, so we ended up taking the train an hour early. Oh well. That gave us time to eat the Moroccan cakes we were given, as well as get some lunch. The mob-mentality was most pertinent at the airport, but the treatment of women was at least tolerable there. Therefore, we were safe, and ready to go home, and practice all the french we learned in Paris (where we´re going on Thursday).
Overall, it was quite an experience. Arabic/Islamic culture is now rather high on my list of things to investigate. Though it perplexes me, I´m intrigued. It was a good first experience into this foreign land. Next time though, I´ll opt to take an escort. And, learn how to cover my head.
Wednesday, November 28, 2007
Oh señora.
"I am so proud of you that you are travelling to all these Spanish speaking cities". This is what my señora told me after I told her I was going to Morocco tomorrow, and after we recapped what other countries I have visited. Apparently señora is just impressed with my Spanish improvement, and is attributing it to my travels. Though I have certainly learned to communicate sans English, I have learned far more than that on my journies. At least when I barely squeak by in my classes here I can say that I learned something...Because I´m walking away with a much larger, uh, suitcase, than I arrived with.
Procrastinating
I need a break from writing my paper. I am now no longer aiming for just passing with this paper, I want a darn good grade on it. Though the chances of that happening are nearly non-existant, simply due to my fantastic grammatical ability. At least I will get to compare this to what I would be learning at Richmond, because a few of my friends are taking our Modern Political Theory course, which this is being credited to.
As I have been endlessly working on this paper, I have inevitably been in the cafeteria, as it is really the only spot in school where I can sit and use my laptop. The cafeteria however, is much more like a European café than anything else, which I guess fits the name. Between classes swarms of people flood this confined space spilling thier caffé-lattés as they spill out into the hallways. Luckily for me, they are not allowed to smoke in there, otherwise you wouldn´t be able to see through the fog. My guess is if they don´t have time to take their smoke break, they figure that downing a shot of caffinee will do the trick. I am still baffeled by the amount of coffee and cigarettes that they consume--and you people think that I drink too much caffinee. Apparently you haven´t been to Bilbao. Apparently they are immune to caffinee though, as it takes quite a bit to extract an occassional facial expression. I make it a habit to try and crack a smile out of at least someone on the metro.
Oh and Dad, I was utterly embarrassed the other day in class because of you. When I was asked to read an excerpt aloud, it included the capital of País Vasco, Vitoria. Well guess how I pronounced it. VIT-OR-E-A. Thank you, really. After only hearing that for a few days, it quickly became engraved in my head as the pronunciation, and no one knew that I was refering to VI-TOR-IA. Maybe I´m not good at breaking now pronunciation, but there is a vast difference between those two words. Oh well. Another one bites the dust.
In almost 24 hours I´ll be departing for Morocco, bag´s already packed. Grabbing it and going tomorrow after class. Maybe this time I´ll get my passport stamped. I´m trying to figure out what I can pull this time, since apparently telling the people in Germany that I had weapons was unsuccessful. I still only have a Madrid stamp. This is GOING to change.
As I have been endlessly working on this paper, I have inevitably been in the cafeteria, as it is really the only spot in school where I can sit and use my laptop. The cafeteria however, is much more like a European café than anything else, which I guess fits the name. Between classes swarms of people flood this confined space spilling thier caffé-lattés as they spill out into the hallways. Luckily for me, they are not allowed to smoke in there, otherwise you wouldn´t be able to see through the fog. My guess is if they don´t have time to take their smoke break, they figure that downing a shot of caffinee will do the trick. I am still baffeled by the amount of coffee and cigarettes that they consume--and you people think that I drink too much caffinee. Apparently you haven´t been to Bilbao. Apparently they are immune to caffinee though, as it takes quite a bit to extract an occassional facial expression. I make it a habit to try and crack a smile out of at least someone on the metro.
Oh and Dad, I was utterly embarrassed the other day in class because of you. When I was asked to read an excerpt aloud, it included the capital of País Vasco, Vitoria. Well guess how I pronounced it. VIT-OR-E-A. Thank you, really. After only hearing that for a few days, it quickly became engraved in my head as the pronunciation, and no one knew that I was refering to VI-TOR-IA. Maybe I´m not good at breaking now pronunciation, but there is a vast difference between those two words. Oh well. Another one bites the dust.
In almost 24 hours I´ll be departing for Morocco, bag´s already packed. Grabbing it and going tomorrow after class. Maybe this time I´ll get my passport stamped. I´m trying to figure out what I can pull this time, since apparently telling the people in Germany that I had weapons was unsuccessful. I still only have a Madrid stamp. This is GOING to change.
Monday, November 26, 2007
Home for the week
Alright, record this one in the books. I stayed in Bilbao for over 10 days without leaving--not even on a day trip. Where to start? Well, I hope that everyone had a fantastic Thanksgiving, I know that I certainly missed it while I was in class. However, my American program did decide to surprise us and take us out to eat for pumpkin soup, turkey with blackberries, and a pumpkin pie. Honestly, it was a pretty good meal. Cannot top anything that I would have had at home, but it was still nice.
Friday, just like back home, is Black Friday--people were fanatically shopping. Unlike home however, it lasts all weekend. I went to the Christmas tree lighting ceremony, which was quite delightful. Though I am not surprised, I am still attempting to grasp the concept of why Spain decides that Christmas should start the day after "Thanksgiving" (which by the way is a concept that no one here understands). Most people view it as another excuse for the Americans to have a hearty meal and take off work. I guess that's the way it looks in movies, but luckily, I actually enjoy the holiday for other reasons.
I went to my first futbol game, which was very exciting. We were sitting in the 12th row, so we had clear visibility of all the players facial expressions and encounters. Spanish soccer is quite a theatrical production. I have never seen the players so involved in every call. Unfortunately, we tied. We were up on goal until the last 50 seconds of the game, when Deportivo (North-West Spain) scored. An interesting fact about Atletic, the Bilbao team: they ONLY have basque players. Recruiting doesn't exist outside the province, whereas other teams, will accept players from any region (or even country). Their pride is too high to allow others onto the team, as again, I am reminded that this is a region based on tradition and principles.
The reason this is rather short, is because I actually spent most of the weekend working on my wonderful political theory paper. Writing about the relationship between religion and democracy, which is interesting when I talk about it with my classmates, as they believe the US to be an extremely religious country. I guess my presentation will surprise them...
Thursday night I begin travelling so that I am in Morocco by Friday morning. I won't lie, I'm stoked. I'm home in less than a month, a concept that's still a bit unstable for me. That also means less than a month til Christmas, I cannot complain about that. Oh, and my senora loves my stocking that I have hanging in my room, which wouldn't be there without the wonderful craftswork of grammy--so again, thank you grammy for letting me have my Christmas decorations in Spain.
Friday, just like back home, is Black Friday--people were fanatically shopping. Unlike home however, it lasts all weekend. I went to the Christmas tree lighting ceremony, which was quite delightful. Though I am not surprised, I am still attempting to grasp the concept of why Spain decides that Christmas should start the day after "Thanksgiving" (which by the way is a concept that no one here understands). Most people view it as another excuse for the Americans to have a hearty meal and take off work. I guess that's the way it looks in movies, but luckily, I actually enjoy the holiday for other reasons.
I went to my first futbol game, which was very exciting. We were sitting in the 12th row, so we had clear visibility of all the players facial expressions and encounters. Spanish soccer is quite a theatrical production. I have never seen the players so involved in every call. Unfortunately, we tied. We were up on goal until the last 50 seconds of the game, when Deportivo (North-West Spain) scored. An interesting fact about Atletic, the Bilbao team: they ONLY have basque players. Recruiting doesn't exist outside the province, whereas other teams, will accept players from any region (or even country). Their pride is too high to allow others onto the team, as again, I am reminded that this is a region based on tradition and principles.
The reason this is rather short, is because I actually spent most of the weekend working on my wonderful political theory paper. Writing about the relationship between religion and democracy, which is interesting when I talk about it with my classmates, as they believe the US to be an extremely religious country. I guess my presentation will surprise them...
Thursday night I begin travelling so that I am in Morocco by Friday morning. I won't lie, I'm stoked. I'm home in less than a month, a concept that's still a bit unstable for me. That also means less than a month til Christmas, I cannot complain about that. Oh, and my senora loves my stocking that I have hanging in my room, which wouldn't be there without the wonderful craftswork of grammy--so again, thank you grammy for letting me have my Christmas decorations in Spain.
Tuesday, November 20, 2007
NO8DO = The city has not abandoned me, Sevilla´s motto
Another weekend has flown by. This time it was spent in Sevilla, the city that you probably envision when you think of Spain--flamenco, tapas, bull fights, the works. Friday morning, per usual, we got up at 4:30am to catch our flight to Sevilla. We met our fantastic tour guide (and best friend, Meredith Kamis) who saved us money by knowing everything that would be on the audio guides. Our first stop (post-hostel) was the Alcazar.
The Alcazar is a royal palace in Sevilla with an incredible mix of cultures put into its architecture. Construction began in the 14th Century and was heavily influenced by the Moorish style, yet still contained within Christian limitations. The palace is filled with running water and pools, as it was believed that still water birthed evil, and thus the waterways are all connected. The Roman baths in the basement of the palace were bigger than most swimming pools, pretty impressive. The palace has many courtyards, lined with hedge mazes, orange trees and goldfish filled ponds. Pretty much, it was a fantastic little place to spend the morning.
After that wore us out, we needed food. Off to the Roman Baths we went. I should remember the name of the restaurant, but its currently slipping from me, that we ate at. It is a preserved underground roman bath. It was quite fun to sit in the cave-style atmosphere while enjoying my lunch.
Rejuvenated from our food, we headed off to stroll along the Guadalquivir River. This river, I am convinced, is the only reason why Sevilla was able to survive in ancient times, because without that water way, Sevilla would have been a deserted desert. The river led us to Triana, where we proceeded to explore and shop.
Since we were tired, we only went out to Calle Beatiz, (the nightlife district) for a few hours, so that we were well rested for our day in Cordoba!
Cordoba allowed us to take our first train ride in Europe, as we headed two hours north of Sevilla. Once the largest city in the world, it boasts ancient architecture and small curvaceous roads that encourage you to get lost. Luckily for us, the Mosque was peaking out over every street, so reason for coming to Cordoba was quickly found. Cordoba was continually a site of invasion, and thus every culture that came in decided to add to the marvel that is the mosque. There are not many matching columns, as they were all stolen from other Roman buildings and remains, I did happen to notice quite a few granite ones though, which of course reminded me of home. In the 13th century, the mosque (like many others at this time) was converted to a cathedral. It now still holds services and Christian events, despite the embedded Muslim influence that is literally trapped in the walls.
We felt we were leaving out Judaism, so we ventured out to the Synagogue--one of the last three that remain in Spain (the remaining two are in Toledo, the city of religion as I am now referring to it as). The Hebrew inscription on the walls tells the story of the construction of the building. Sadly, only one room was open, which made sense since we only were charged .30 to enter.
Two hours later we were back at it in Sevilla. Get showered, get ready, and lets go. Flamenco dancing is on the agenda. After a delicious dinner, we headed out to a flamenco show. It was fantastic. Only one dancer, with four musical men behind her. Very relaxed tavern like atmosphere, yet silenced by the passion on the stage. Definitely glad that I was able to watch the performance. We then decided to practice our Spanish some more by heading out for the evening at a rather upscale club (we got in free instead of paying the 500€ entrance fee). I felt a bit under dressed.
Sunday was a day of rest, so we took advantage by sleeping in until 9am, just in time to catch the free breakfast our hostel offered. Off to the main events, Plaza de España here we come. Plaza de España has a bench from every main city in Spain, EXCEPT Bilbao. I don´t know if Sevilla is aware that Bilbao is the 5th largest city, but apparently that makes no difference. Instead, they had a bench of our region, which encompassed all of the cities that are tied to ETA. That of course had no effect, as ETA is only three decades old, while the Plaza has a few hundred years on it. We then strolled through Parque Maria Luisa on our way to find lunch before scurrying off to the Cathedral.
The Cathedral is the largest Roman Catholic church (I believe in the world). It is the burial ground of Christopher Columbus. The reason why the cathedral is so big, is they wanted to cover all of the land that once belonged to the mosque that once stood in its place. The best part was the tower top view that allowed us to see for miles, as there is nothing but flat land in the south of Spain.
We had a farewell dinner to top off the evening and caught our flight in the morning in time to make it to class on Monday. Perfect. Fantastic weekend.
The Alcazar is a royal palace in Sevilla with an incredible mix of cultures put into its architecture. Construction began in the 14th Century and was heavily influenced by the Moorish style, yet still contained within Christian limitations. The palace is filled with running water and pools, as it was believed that still water birthed evil, and thus the waterways are all connected. The Roman baths in the basement of the palace were bigger than most swimming pools, pretty impressive. The palace has many courtyards, lined with hedge mazes, orange trees and goldfish filled ponds. Pretty much, it was a fantastic little place to spend the morning.
After that wore us out, we needed food. Off to the Roman Baths we went. I should remember the name of the restaurant, but its currently slipping from me, that we ate at. It is a preserved underground roman bath. It was quite fun to sit in the cave-style atmosphere while enjoying my lunch.
Rejuvenated from our food, we headed off to stroll along the Guadalquivir River. This river, I am convinced, is the only reason why Sevilla was able to survive in ancient times, because without that water way, Sevilla would have been a deserted desert. The river led us to Triana, where we proceeded to explore and shop.
Since we were tired, we only went out to Calle Beatiz, (the nightlife district) for a few hours, so that we were well rested for our day in Cordoba!
Cordoba allowed us to take our first train ride in Europe, as we headed two hours north of Sevilla. Once the largest city in the world, it boasts ancient architecture and small curvaceous roads that encourage you to get lost. Luckily for us, the Mosque was peaking out over every street, so reason for coming to Cordoba was quickly found. Cordoba was continually a site of invasion, and thus every culture that came in decided to add to the marvel that is the mosque. There are not many matching columns, as they were all stolen from other Roman buildings and remains, I did happen to notice quite a few granite ones though, which of course reminded me of home. In the 13th century, the mosque (like many others at this time) was converted to a cathedral. It now still holds services and Christian events, despite the embedded Muslim influence that is literally trapped in the walls.
We felt we were leaving out Judaism, so we ventured out to the Synagogue--one of the last three that remain in Spain (the remaining two are in Toledo, the city of religion as I am now referring to it as). The Hebrew inscription on the walls tells the story of the construction of the building. Sadly, only one room was open, which made sense since we only were charged .30 to enter.
Two hours later we were back at it in Sevilla. Get showered, get ready, and lets go. Flamenco dancing is on the agenda. After a delicious dinner, we headed out to a flamenco show. It was fantastic. Only one dancer, with four musical men behind her. Very relaxed tavern like atmosphere, yet silenced by the passion on the stage. Definitely glad that I was able to watch the performance. We then decided to practice our Spanish some more by heading out for the evening at a rather upscale club (we got in free instead of paying the 500€ entrance fee). I felt a bit under dressed.
Sunday was a day of rest, so we took advantage by sleeping in until 9am, just in time to catch the free breakfast our hostel offered. Off to the main events, Plaza de España here we come. Plaza de España has a bench from every main city in Spain, EXCEPT Bilbao. I don´t know if Sevilla is aware that Bilbao is the 5th largest city, but apparently that makes no difference. Instead, they had a bench of our region, which encompassed all of the cities that are tied to ETA. That of course had no effect, as ETA is only three decades old, while the Plaza has a few hundred years on it. We then strolled through Parque Maria Luisa on our way to find lunch before scurrying off to the Cathedral.
The Cathedral is the largest Roman Catholic church (I believe in the world). It is the burial ground of Christopher Columbus. The reason why the cathedral is so big, is they wanted to cover all of the land that once belonged to the mosque that once stood in its place. The best part was the tower top view that allowed us to see for miles, as there is nothing but flat land in the south of Spain.
We had a farewell dinner to top off the evening and caught our flight in the morning in time to make it to class on Monday. Perfect. Fantastic weekend.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Spur of the Moment--let´s pretend to be Heidi
Last weekend I decided to jump on a plane and head to Germany. My friend Ashton, who is in the American program, and I decided that we wanted to go to a central European country for the weekend, and booked our flights two days before we left. Actually, I booked the flights, which is why we ended up where we did. Being on a budget, we generally fly to the airports on the outskirts of cities, so I opted to fly into the Frankfurt-Hahn airport--big lie. This airport is over 2 hours away from Frankfurt, luckily we found this out the morning before we left, so we didn´t make any boarding reservations in Frankfurt.
Instead we headed out to Trier, the oldest city in Germany, founded in 16BC. We arrived in a soft snow fall, it was perfect. Finding a hostel however, was not. Though we had been practicing our best German accents, we were entirely unable to communicate in German, and sadly very few people spoke English. Thus, finding a hostel for the night was an endeavor. Luckily for us, there were only two hostels in the whole city, so people had heard of the one we were looking for. After we found it, we managed to hand motion enough that we wanted a place to sleep for two nights, sadly they only had space for one night. I say sadly, because this was the best hostel I´ve stayed in yet. They gave us a private room, double beds, and down comforters. Amazing. After we put our things down, we wanted to do a bit of exploring, so we ventured out, bundled in the winter attire. The only place that was open was the mall, so of course, we headed in. Spain is not known for big store, they prefer the style of buying your shoes in the shoe store, skirts in the boutiques and so on. Germany functions a bit more like America with BIG department stores. We even found the equivalent of Walmart--but much more entertaining.
Since the city was shut down for the night, and we could only explore so many stores in the mall, we headed in back for an early night, knowing that we´d get an early start in the morning.
8am we were on the road, or sidewalks rather. We boycotted all public transportation and decided to get our exercise by walking everywhere. Our first stop was the Palace of Trier which hosted fantastic gardens lined with statues and vine covered stone walls. The architecture looked a bit French, but we accepted it for what it was. We strolled over to the Roman forum which houses the Roman baths. If I had not titled my pictures on my computer, I easily could have slide these into my Rome photo album. Trier was one of the main cities during the Roman Empire, and the history is most certainly still visible.
Since it was a bit chilly, we wanted our next stop to be inside, so off to the Cathedral we went. It is the oldest Cathedral in Germany, built by Constantine, the first Christian Roman emperor, and now holds regular Catholic services. It was impossible to miss the Cathedral itself, as it looks like you are approaching a fortress. Constantine is the same man who started places for St. Peter´s Basilica in Rome, if that gives you any idea of how impressive this piece is.
Then main street was filled with street market vendors, selling mainly edibles and flowers; therefore no good gifts to pick up. This road led us to the Porta Nigra, which is the city gate built soon after the death of Jesus.
We found ourselves on a leave-crystallized sidewalk next to the river, which was one of the best landscapes that I have seen since my arrival a few months back. Germany´s mountains and trees easily could be labeled New England, all in all, I felt home. This road led us, after a few detours, to the birthplace of Karl Marx, who resided in Trier for the greater part of his life.
I hadn´t realized how bustling with history the city was, as before last week, the city had yet to reach my radar. Despite having slept in the airport all Saturday night, as there were no available hostels, the weekend was fantastic. I came back to Bilbao in time to read a book for class and write two papers--I´m finally getting the hang of this. Next stop: Sevilla on Friday.
Instead we headed out to Trier, the oldest city in Germany, founded in 16BC. We arrived in a soft snow fall, it was perfect. Finding a hostel however, was not. Though we had been practicing our best German accents, we were entirely unable to communicate in German, and sadly very few people spoke English. Thus, finding a hostel for the night was an endeavor. Luckily for us, there were only two hostels in the whole city, so people had heard of the one we were looking for. After we found it, we managed to hand motion enough that we wanted a place to sleep for two nights, sadly they only had space for one night. I say sadly, because this was the best hostel I´ve stayed in yet. They gave us a private room, double beds, and down comforters. Amazing. After we put our things down, we wanted to do a bit of exploring, so we ventured out, bundled in the winter attire. The only place that was open was the mall, so of course, we headed in. Spain is not known for big store, they prefer the style of buying your shoes in the shoe store, skirts in the boutiques and so on. Germany functions a bit more like America with BIG department stores. We even found the equivalent of Walmart--but much more entertaining.
Since the city was shut down for the night, and we could only explore so many stores in the mall, we headed in back for an early night, knowing that we´d get an early start in the morning.
8am we were on the road, or sidewalks rather. We boycotted all public transportation and decided to get our exercise by walking everywhere. Our first stop was the Palace of Trier which hosted fantastic gardens lined with statues and vine covered stone walls. The architecture looked a bit French, but we accepted it for what it was. We strolled over to the Roman forum which houses the Roman baths. If I had not titled my pictures on my computer, I easily could have slide these into my Rome photo album. Trier was one of the main cities during the Roman Empire, and the history is most certainly still visible.
Since it was a bit chilly, we wanted our next stop to be inside, so off to the Cathedral we went. It is the oldest Cathedral in Germany, built by Constantine, the first Christian Roman emperor, and now holds regular Catholic services. It was impossible to miss the Cathedral itself, as it looks like you are approaching a fortress. Constantine is the same man who started places for St. Peter´s Basilica in Rome, if that gives you any idea of how impressive this piece is.
Then main street was filled with street market vendors, selling mainly edibles and flowers; therefore no good gifts to pick up. This road led us to the Porta Nigra, which is the city gate built soon after the death of Jesus.
We found ourselves on a leave-crystallized sidewalk next to the river, which was one of the best landscapes that I have seen since my arrival a few months back. Germany´s mountains and trees easily could be labeled New England, all in all, I felt home. This road led us, after a few detours, to the birthplace of Karl Marx, who resided in Trier for the greater part of his life.
I hadn´t realized how bustling with history the city was, as before last week, the city had yet to reach my radar. Despite having slept in the airport all Saturday night, as there were no available hostels, the weekend was fantastic. I came back to Bilbao in time to read a book for class and write two papers--I´m finally getting the hang of this. Next stop: Sevilla on Friday.
Monday, November 5, 2007
Whirlwind of northern Spain, and a stop in France for lunch
I arrived back from Barcelona Monday morning, and then was whisked away by my parents, grandmother, and the Haskells (family friends) Tuesday night. I haven´t had much down time in the past week--exactly the way that I like it. Tuesday night was reserved for the Guggenheim, as it was decided only one night was necessary for Bilbao, which was a good call. After everyone was zombied by the silver missle mines in the Guggenheim we had a quick dinner before resting for a full day of travelling. At dinner, the only local thing I could think to recommend was Kalimutxo, which is a combination of red wine and coke. My mom was the only one brave enough to order it.
One the map, the green highways are the scenic ones. Makes sense. We opted to take as many of them as possible in order to accutally see Spain. Phenomenal idea, as there is no other way that I would get to see the little towns of the country in which I am living. All the buses take the main highways, and destinations are to cities, so this worked out quite well for me.
Our green highways led us first to a quick stop in Guernica, then to Biarritz, a coastal quaint town in France that is in one of the French Basque provinces. Our first stop in the village was lunch in an outdoor cafe on the ocean. Picturesque. We then took the train tour of the city. We opted to depart at the neighboring beach of our car, and walked past a surfing competition and casino on our way to the chocolate store. I ended up consuming my entire chocoalate bar before we arrived at the car. Shocking, I know.
After we decided we had enough of France, and our GPS system failed on us due to taking it across boarders, we headed towards San Sebastian, our place of rest for the evening. We did a quick drive through tour of the city on our way to the hotel, bypassing the historical and market districts. Our hotel was less than a five minute walk from the infamous shell-shaped beach, known through-out Spain. On our search for dinner that night we ended up finding many sports clubs and tennis courts, but no where to eat until 9 o´clock. This however, is quite usual in Spain for nothing to open until this late.
Thursday posed a bit of a problem however, as it was all Saint´s Day, a big holiday for Spain. Translate it to our Thanksgiving, they all see their family, have a big meal, and a four day weekend. Just add a religious component into the mix, and it´s Thanksgiving in Spain. Even breakfast was a search, as everything is closed. However, as usual, we were on the road early.
From here on off, I have to be careful of the order in which I tell the cities by, as I have five witnesses (or CINCO as they are all very proud to know) to keep me in line. The morning I was a bit fuzzy on to begin with however, because like clockwork, carsickness set in within the first hour of travelling. During this time however, I believe that we drove through Vitoria (VIT-OR-E-A if you ask my dad) which is the capital of the Basque country. Now we travelled through the entire Basque country at this point, which I read this morning, is similar in size to New Hampshire. After blowing through Vitoria, we entered quite a bit of plains and agriculture. We were haeding towards Logroño, when we took what we hoped to be our lunch break. Instead we encountered hundreds of people in a wall-city with an incredible view of both the plains and the mountains. Apparently there was a convention in the city for the long weekend, which would explain why we struggled to find a parking spot for our car, which I endearingly refer to as the bus. We ended up having lunch in Logroño at the Drunken Duck, the only place open, and surprisingly didn´t speak a word of English, which is rare for an Irish pub.
We then beelined it for our destination, the name is currently escaping me, though I believe it was near Elciego, as that was a road sign I was continually looking for. The whole drive to our hotel was through the wine region in Spain, called La Rioja. We therefore passed many grape trees (for Dad) as well as hoards of vines. We ended up pulling off on the side of the road to inspect a field of them. The grapes we saw were very dark and had pits. We wondered how easy it would be to make wine with pitted grapes, as this was the purpose of the grapes, but we gathered that these people knew what they were doing with their hundreds of hectors of grapes.
Friday was a day of travelling. Our first attraction was Burgos, which housed Catedral de Burgos and Monasterio de Santa María la Real de Las Huelgas. The highlight of this town for me was finding a homemade Christmas store, something I have been searching for since my arrival in Spain. We spent the greater part of the morning in the town, and left only to get back on the road, not because we were finished.
Madrid was the first city that everyone throughly enjoyed. The reason for the green roads, was because everyone preferred them to the cities. Regardless, Madrid had it´s own feel. It felt incredibly busy and flooded with people, something that no one had quite expected. Saturday was the touring of Madrid, which started with the Reigna Sofia, which homes Picasso´s Guernica, as well as an impressive wonderbread castle in the middle of the woods for a bird feast. After that modern art musuem we jumped on the tour bus which gave us a historical tour of the city, which we interrupted when we decided that Plaza Mayor would be a great place to have lunch. Plaza Mayor is an outdoor courtyard with cafes and restaurants covering the exterior walls. We were entertained by witches, Bopping Betty type characters, as well as a band. The Prado followed lunch, the classical, and most famous museum in Madrid. This museum guards many of Goya´s, El Greco´s, and Ruben´s most well-known pieces. Only have of the group was artistically exhausted at this point, so half us departed to explore the city while the other have made full use of our tri-museum pass and saw (post)impressionist art at the Thyssen-Bornemisza.
The highlight of the entire trip was Saturday night. We sadly had to rush through tapas, but the restaurant we choose we a great pick. Before the digestive process even begun we were already sitting in our seats at the Flamenco Ballet. It is exactly what it sounds like, a mix of Flamenoc and Ballet dances. It was my first experience of either, and apparently very authentic on both accounts. I thourghly enjoyed the show, and am now even more anxious to head down to Sevilla to see Flamenco at its home.
Sunday was the day of departure, five on a plane back home, one on a bus to her Spanish home. Luckily I don´t have class until late today, because after nearly ten days of travelling, I was quite tired and slept most of this morning. Next on my list of travels requiring a plane: Sevilla.
One the map, the green highways are the scenic ones. Makes sense. We opted to take as many of them as possible in order to accutally see Spain. Phenomenal idea, as there is no other way that I would get to see the little towns of the country in which I am living. All the buses take the main highways, and destinations are to cities, so this worked out quite well for me.
Our green highways led us first to a quick stop in Guernica, then to Biarritz, a coastal quaint town in France that is in one of the French Basque provinces. Our first stop in the village was lunch in an outdoor cafe on the ocean. Picturesque. We then took the train tour of the city. We opted to depart at the neighboring beach of our car, and walked past a surfing competition and casino on our way to the chocolate store. I ended up consuming my entire chocoalate bar before we arrived at the car. Shocking, I know.
After we decided we had enough of France, and our GPS system failed on us due to taking it across boarders, we headed towards San Sebastian, our place of rest for the evening. We did a quick drive through tour of the city on our way to the hotel, bypassing the historical and market districts. Our hotel was less than a five minute walk from the infamous shell-shaped beach, known through-out Spain. On our search for dinner that night we ended up finding many sports clubs and tennis courts, but no where to eat until 9 o´clock. This however, is quite usual in Spain for nothing to open until this late.
Thursday posed a bit of a problem however, as it was all Saint´s Day, a big holiday for Spain. Translate it to our Thanksgiving, they all see their family, have a big meal, and a four day weekend. Just add a religious component into the mix, and it´s Thanksgiving in Spain. Even breakfast was a search, as everything is closed. However, as usual, we were on the road early.
From here on off, I have to be careful of the order in which I tell the cities by, as I have five witnesses (or CINCO as they are all very proud to know) to keep me in line. The morning I was a bit fuzzy on to begin with however, because like clockwork, carsickness set in within the first hour of travelling. During this time however, I believe that we drove through Vitoria (VIT-OR-E-A if you ask my dad) which is the capital of the Basque country. Now we travelled through the entire Basque country at this point, which I read this morning, is similar in size to New Hampshire. After blowing through Vitoria, we entered quite a bit of plains and agriculture. We were haeding towards Logroño, when we took what we hoped to be our lunch break. Instead we encountered hundreds of people in a wall-city with an incredible view of both the plains and the mountains. Apparently there was a convention in the city for the long weekend, which would explain why we struggled to find a parking spot for our car, which I endearingly refer to as the bus. We ended up having lunch in Logroño at the Drunken Duck, the only place open, and surprisingly didn´t speak a word of English, which is rare for an Irish pub.
We then beelined it for our destination, the name is currently escaping me, though I believe it was near Elciego, as that was a road sign I was continually looking for. The whole drive to our hotel was through the wine region in Spain, called La Rioja. We therefore passed many grape trees (for Dad) as well as hoards of vines. We ended up pulling off on the side of the road to inspect a field of them. The grapes we saw were very dark and had pits. We wondered how easy it would be to make wine with pitted grapes, as this was the purpose of the grapes, but we gathered that these people knew what they were doing with their hundreds of hectors of grapes.
Friday was a day of travelling. Our first attraction was Burgos, which housed Catedral de Burgos and Monasterio de Santa María la Real de Las Huelgas. The highlight of this town for me was finding a homemade Christmas store, something I have been searching for since my arrival in Spain. We spent the greater part of the morning in the town, and left only to get back on the road, not because we were finished.
Madrid was the first city that everyone throughly enjoyed. The reason for the green roads, was because everyone preferred them to the cities. Regardless, Madrid had it´s own feel. It felt incredibly busy and flooded with people, something that no one had quite expected. Saturday was the touring of Madrid, which started with the Reigna Sofia, which homes Picasso´s Guernica, as well as an impressive wonderbread castle in the middle of the woods for a bird feast. After that modern art musuem we jumped on the tour bus which gave us a historical tour of the city, which we interrupted when we decided that Plaza Mayor would be a great place to have lunch. Plaza Mayor is an outdoor courtyard with cafes and restaurants covering the exterior walls. We were entertained by witches, Bopping Betty type characters, as well as a band. The Prado followed lunch, the classical, and most famous museum in Madrid. This museum guards many of Goya´s, El Greco´s, and Ruben´s most well-known pieces. Only have of the group was artistically exhausted at this point, so half us departed to explore the city while the other have made full use of our tri-museum pass and saw (post)impressionist art at the Thyssen-Bornemisza.
The highlight of the entire trip was Saturday night. We sadly had to rush through tapas, but the restaurant we choose we a great pick. Before the digestive process even begun we were already sitting in our seats at the Flamenco Ballet. It is exactly what it sounds like, a mix of Flamenoc and Ballet dances. It was my first experience of either, and apparently very authentic on both accounts. I thourghly enjoyed the show, and am now even more anxious to head down to Sevilla to see Flamenco at its home.
Sunday was the day of departure, five on a plane back home, one on a bus to her Spanish home. Luckily I don´t have class until late today, because after nearly ten days of travelling, I was quite tired and slept most of this morning. Next on my list of travels requiring a plane: Sevilla.
Monday, October 29, 2007
Succession.
Barcelona is in an autonomous region in Spain, which happens to have their own language called Catalan. Catalan is a combination mainly between French and Spanish, but I believe there’s a bit of Italian thrown into the mixture as well. Regardless, unlike here in Pais Vasco, Catalan is spoken on the streets. Basque, the language where I live, is written on every street sign, menu, and government building; however, I have yet to hear it spoken. Whereas in Barcelona I was approached more than once by Spanish men speaking Catalan, who had the impression that I understood them. I suppose they were half correct, as I could understand that language, I would have no idea where to start attempting to formulize my own responses. I am glad for various reasons that I am not in Barcelona for the semester, because as rich as the culture is, not only is it too big for me, but the English (due to tourists) and use of Catalan would have detracted from the experience that I would have hoped to have.
Here I get to experience the nationalism of the Basque country, while seeing its effects through its written language (and the occasional riots as well). I much prefer that trade as I am still completely perplexed by the Basques, who all seem pro-succession, a concept I’m hoping to understand before I leave. The rational for nearly everyone whom I have talked about nationalism with is different, and perhaps that is why they have no real solid political grounds to carry through their plea for independence. They cannot agree with each other on why. If they intertwined their arguments, perhaps they’d have a leash that could be given slack, but for now, they are on the Spanish noose remaining a country.
Here I get to experience the nationalism of the Basque country, while seeing its effects through its written language (and the occasional riots as well). I much prefer that trade as I am still completely perplexed by the Basques, who all seem pro-succession, a concept I’m hoping to understand before I leave. The rational for nearly everyone whom I have talked about nationalism with is different, and perhaps that is why they have no real solid political grounds to carry through their plea for independence. They cannot agree with each other on why. If they intertwined their arguments, perhaps they’d have a leash that could be given slack, but for now, they are on the Spanish noose remaining a country.
Barcelona.
Another thing to cross off: seeing the Mediterranean. Barcelona is quite the city. It had the big city feel, minus the feeling that I was ever going to get lost. The only real downfall is that we could not ask anyone for directions (when we needed them) because it literally was a struggle to find someone on the streets that we were on that was not a tourist.
We arrived in Barcelona Thursday night and checked into our hostel. It was a pretty nice place, we were in a room of twelve, so we had 7 roommates—not the quietest bunch, but I sleep like a log so I was not affected thankfully. Also, it had a pretty sweet free breakfast lined up in the mornings as well, which was always worth it. Though, we did have to stop at Dunkin Donuts once (or twice...) simply due to the fact that it was here, and I rarely see them outside New England.
Friday was our first day of sightseeing. We weaved through the crowds and street performers on La Rambla (most famous street in the city). We found a huge market of fruits, meats, desserts, breads, the works. We decided to return the following day to get goodies for our picnic lunch that we would have at Gaudi’s park. For those of you who do not know who Gaudi is, he is awesome. He was an architect with a rather intricate imagination. His work resembles a mix between Van Gogh’s paintings and Dr. Seuss books. It really is quite fascinating. We ended up seeing his park, La Pedrera and the Sagrada Familia, all thoroughly enjoyed. We arrived at La Pedrera well before it opened (impressive I know) so we actually bypassed seeing that. What’s nice is that since he is an architect, you can see his work from the streets, as the attractions are the buildings themselves. The Sagrada Familia will be a work in progress for a few more decades. Gaudi left plans for them to be finished, but no one can agree or carry through the masterpiece that he began, so sadly, it is currently a construction site.
Aside from Gaudi (whom you should look up his work if you don’t know about him) we still managed to enjoy ourselves. We toured the ports and beaches, and actually ended up hanging out at the beach one night for a few hours. Incredible. Since it was the weekend, the streets were filled with markets of every kind, foods, crafts, medicines, anything you could need, more than you would want. Markets however, are always an incredible time, because there are generally free samples and entertaining people to talk to.
Our first night out, we met up with friends who were visiting Barcelona, as well as some that were studying there for the semester. Our hosts showed us two great places to hang out for the night, one being an Irish Pub with a pool table (apparently the only one in Barcelona) and then a bar that was decorated like a forest, waterfalls and all. Both were very enjoyable. The second night we went to a bar that simulated the stock market, it was called the Dow Jones bar. Every hour the price of drinks changed based on how the stock market was doing, it was quite comical to see the floods of orders on the hours.
The last night was my favorite. We decided that since we were in Barcelona, and their fútbol team is rather good, that we should watch a game. We went to the stadium, purchased our tickets, then got dinner in a café while waiting for the game. Come game time we were thoroughly disappointed as we were passed by hoards of people going in the opposite direction. We bought tickets for the wrong game. Fantastic. The stadiums are directly across the street from each other, and we apparently purchased tickets for the junior match. Though it was good, no one was in the stadium as they were all at the “real game”. Oh well, it was fun. Barcelona won (both games).
Then after the Barcelona match we were walking on one of the main streets and saw the Patriots game in a sports bar. Of course we popped in to watch the tail end of the slaughter against the Redskins. This night turned entirely into a sports night, as the Red Sox were going to play their fourth (and final) game of the World Series. Mind you, we are six hours ahead of Eastern Time, and therefore the game didn’t start until 1am. This however did not particularly phase us, as we had to be up at 4:30 anyways for our flight, we stuck it out and stayed up all night watching the Red Sox capture their second World Series victory in my lifetime. Great way to end the weekend. Classes today were a bit rough after no sleep, but hey, I’m in Spain. I don’t need to sleep every day.
We arrived in Barcelona Thursday night and checked into our hostel. It was a pretty nice place, we were in a room of twelve, so we had 7 roommates—not the quietest bunch, but I sleep like a log so I was not affected thankfully. Also, it had a pretty sweet free breakfast lined up in the mornings as well, which was always worth it. Though, we did have to stop at Dunkin Donuts once (or twice...) simply due to the fact that it was here, and I rarely see them outside New England.
Friday was our first day of sightseeing. We weaved through the crowds and street performers on La Rambla (most famous street in the city). We found a huge market of fruits, meats, desserts, breads, the works. We decided to return the following day to get goodies for our picnic lunch that we would have at Gaudi’s park. For those of you who do not know who Gaudi is, he is awesome. He was an architect with a rather intricate imagination. His work resembles a mix between Van Gogh’s paintings and Dr. Seuss books. It really is quite fascinating. We ended up seeing his park, La Pedrera and the Sagrada Familia, all thoroughly enjoyed. We arrived at La Pedrera well before it opened (impressive I know) so we actually bypassed seeing that. What’s nice is that since he is an architect, you can see his work from the streets, as the attractions are the buildings themselves. The Sagrada Familia will be a work in progress for a few more decades. Gaudi left plans for them to be finished, but no one can agree or carry through the masterpiece that he began, so sadly, it is currently a construction site.
Aside from Gaudi (whom you should look up his work if you don’t know about him) we still managed to enjoy ourselves. We toured the ports and beaches, and actually ended up hanging out at the beach one night for a few hours. Incredible. Since it was the weekend, the streets were filled with markets of every kind, foods, crafts, medicines, anything you could need, more than you would want. Markets however, are always an incredible time, because there are generally free samples and entertaining people to talk to.
Our first night out, we met up with friends who were visiting Barcelona, as well as some that were studying there for the semester. Our hosts showed us two great places to hang out for the night, one being an Irish Pub with a pool table (apparently the only one in Barcelona) and then a bar that was decorated like a forest, waterfalls and all. Both were very enjoyable. The second night we went to a bar that simulated the stock market, it was called the Dow Jones bar. Every hour the price of drinks changed based on how the stock market was doing, it was quite comical to see the floods of orders on the hours.
The last night was my favorite. We decided that since we were in Barcelona, and their fútbol team is rather good, that we should watch a game. We went to the stadium, purchased our tickets, then got dinner in a café while waiting for the game. Come game time we were thoroughly disappointed as we were passed by hoards of people going in the opposite direction. We bought tickets for the wrong game. Fantastic. The stadiums are directly across the street from each other, and we apparently purchased tickets for the junior match. Though it was good, no one was in the stadium as they were all at the “real game”. Oh well, it was fun. Barcelona won (both games).
Then after the Barcelona match we were walking on one of the main streets and saw the Patriots game in a sports bar. Of course we popped in to watch the tail end of the slaughter against the Redskins. This night turned entirely into a sports night, as the Red Sox were going to play their fourth (and final) game of the World Series. Mind you, we are six hours ahead of Eastern Time, and therefore the game didn’t start until 1am. This however did not particularly phase us, as we had to be up at 4:30 anyways for our flight, we stuck it out and stayed up all night watching the Red Sox capture their second World Series victory in my lifetime. Great way to end the weekend. Classes today were a bit rough after no sleep, but hey, I’m in Spain. I don’t need to sleep every day.
Sunday, October 21, 2007
Tid Bits
As a way to practice my Spanish, I read the local newspapers every day. It’s good practice. There was an interesting article this week about immigration in Spain. I knew that Spain actually was looking for immigrants within recent years, as it does not have youth due to low birth rates during the past few decades. Spain now is the number two country in the world, trumped only by the US, as having the highest percentage of immigrants in the population. 9.9% of Spain is now immigrants, which translates into just over 45 million people. The article disappointingly was short, and therefore did not get into detail of the country origin of the immigrants, but from what I recollect from my Spanish classes last year, I believe that Spain attracts many South Americans (who by the way are rather offended if you do not call them Americans). Thus, everyone in Spain still speaks Spanish, so despite the sky-rocketing influx of immigrants, language is not an obstacle that commonly needs to be hurdled.
Another interesting headline was there is one bar for every 123 Spaniards. Which means there quite a few bars in these parts. The statistic does not actually surprise me too much, as it is very apparent that there are numerous bars on every block here. Looking on my bedroom window, I can see at least three. Bars here have much more of a café environment and serve food during the day before the drinks at night. They are a common destination for a casual afternoon rendezvous or a quiet night out. Mind you they certainly have their clubs and rowdy bars as well, but their bar scene is much more part of their culture than it seems to be in America.
Also, changing gears again, the presence of religion here is continually something that I am struggling to understand. The president of France, who is undergoing a divorce, is a huge scandal; yet Spain is apparently become less Catholic every year. It is slowly becoming a melting pot of Religions, much like every country is becoming. The ease of travel and accessibility I’m beginning to believe not only allows travelers to learn about new cultures, but leave a part of their culture behind. Corny, but I’ve been taking footprint pictures of all the places that I’ve traveled, to capture a piece of me that I left behind everywhere that I went. As strong as every culture seems to be, and as traditional as they claim they are, all the cultures in Spain are undergoing changes. Bilbao is the perfect example. It still has its traditional roots in the old city called Casco Viejo; the city itself however, is incredibly modern. I was talking to one of my professors about how the Bilboians (natives from Bilbao) feel about this, and she said though they appreciate the convenience of the city, many still wish that it reflect more of their roots and traditions. I’m not quite sure how an older city would exemplify this better, but apparently it was a major issue that was addressed before the renovations to the city occurred. The metro and the Guggenheim are two aspects that were highly debated; both of which I’ll be going to tomorrow.
Another interesting headline was there is one bar for every 123 Spaniards. Which means there quite a few bars in these parts. The statistic does not actually surprise me too much, as it is very apparent that there are numerous bars on every block here. Looking on my bedroom window, I can see at least three. Bars here have much more of a café environment and serve food during the day before the drinks at night. They are a common destination for a casual afternoon rendezvous or a quiet night out. Mind you they certainly have their clubs and rowdy bars as well, but their bar scene is much more part of their culture than it seems to be in America.
Also, changing gears again, the presence of religion here is continually something that I am struggling to understand. The president of France, who is undergoing a divorce, is a huge scandal; yet Spain is apparently become less Catholic every year. It is slowly becoming a melting pot of Religions, much like every country is becoming. The ease of travel and accessibility I’m beginning to believe not only allows travelers to learn about new cultures, but leave a part of their culture behind. Corny, but I’ve been taking footprint pictures of all the places that I’ve traveled, to capture a piece of me that I left behind everywhere that I went. As strong as every culture seems to be, and as traditional as they claim they are, all the cultures in Spain are undergoing changes. Bilbao is the perfect example. It still has its traditional roots in the old city called Casco Viejo; the city itself however, is incredibly modern. I was talking to one of my professors about how the Bilboians (natives from Bilbao) feel about this, and she said though they appreciate the convenience of the city, many still wish that it reflect more of their roots and traditions. I’m not quite sure how an older city would exemplify this better, but apparently it was a major issue that was addressed before the renovations to the city occurred. The metro and the Guggenheim are two aspects that were highly debated; both of which I’ll be going to tomorrow.
Nationalism
Even the Romans were afraid of the Basque culture and language. They know that it would be impossible to assimilate them into their empire, so they gave up. This was centuries ago, before Julius Caesar; which means that the Basque culture has been chiseled into the land and people here for many many years. I have had mixed feelings about choosing Bilbao as my Spanish city, simply because of the Basque influence (which is impossible to escape). Yet, I realized that nearly every other city that I would visit has an international culture, as they are much more integrated than the Basque cities whose citizens are primarily Basque nationalists. And no, nationalist does not mean terrorists, as many tourists commonly believe. It simply is a very strong allegiance to their nation, which is Pais Vasco first, and Spain second.
One of the courses that I am taking here is called nationalism and regionalism in Spain. Before we learn about the separate regions within Spain, we have been attempting to grasp the concept of, “what is a nation”? Through many of the definitions, there is no reason why Pais Vasco (which is the Spanish name for the Basque country) should want to succeed. Other definitions that we—the class—has formed, cover nations as a people, much like one that could be applied to the Kurds. The concept is quite an interesting one.
Today was one of the best days that I’ve had since I arrived in Spain: I went to Gernika. This was the last American excursion, and it was incredible. For those of you who don’t know what Gernika is, it is the location of a WWII bombing, made famous by Picasso who began his work, entitled “Guernica” the day after the bombing. I saw this painting in person, when I visited the Reigna Sofia in Madrid, but it has much more meaning now that I know the story behind it.
Side note: Guernica and Gernika are the same thing, different languages.
We visited two buildings in Gernika: La Casa de Juntas de Gernika and La Fundación Museo de la Paz de Gernika. The first is where the infamous tree of Gernika stands. A new tree was required in 2005 when the old tree needed to be refreshed as they put it. The assembly house (which is in the shade of the tree) and the tree both symbolize the history of the Basque people. Meetings were held by representatives of the territory to discuss issues and problems of the province. Though the meetings were abolished for over a century, they began again in 1979, right around the same time ETA, the nationalist terrorist group was formed. Though there is no direct connection, I find it rather coincidental.
After la Casa de Juntas de Gernika, we headed off to the Museum of Peace. Each section of the museum posed a different question that related both to Pais Vasco itself, and its place in the world. The first themed question is “what is peace?” It addressed the concepts of peace, conflict, and resolution by providing different views and aspects of the topic. The next section is “what is the legacy of the bombing of Gernika?” This section was mainly an oral recording, which I struggled a bit with, as a great deal of the speeches were in Basque, a language I that entirely befuddles me. It however, addressed the bombing itself as well as the reconciliation between the survivors and their attackers. The last topic “what about peace in the world today?” was interesting as you literally looked through Picasso’s “Guernica” and are faced with attributes that contribute or detract from peace in the world today. Fantastic exhibit. I would highly recommend this to anyone who speaks Spanish. Though they have English tour guides available (so I was told) all of the writing is in first Basque, followed by Spanish. Therefore it would be rather hard to appreciate the museum without knowing the language.
It was certainly a day well spent as not only was Gernika itself gorgeous, but a little culture exposure is always a nice touch. Plus, the CIDE program offers great meals if you like good food. We had a cream of potato soup containing tuna, and a choice of octopus or cod fish for the entrée—both common, though expensive, Basque dishes.
One of the courses that I am taking here is called nationalism and regionalism in Spain. Before we learn about the separate regions within Spain, we have been attempting to grasp the concept of, “what is a nation”? Through many of the definitions, there is no reason why Pais Vasco (which is the Spanish name for the Basque country) should want to succeed. Other definitions that we—the class—has formed, cover nations as a people, much like one that could be applied to the Kurds. The concept is quite an interesting one.
Today was one of the best days that I’ve had since I arrived in Spain: I went to Gernika. This was the last American excursion, and it was incredible. For those of you who don’t know what Gernika is, it is the location of a WWII bombing, made famous by Picasso who began his work, entitled “Guernica” the day after the bombing. I saw this painting in person, when I visited the Reigna Sofia in Madrid, but it has much more meaning now that I know the story behind it.
Side note: Guernica and Gernika are the same thing, different languages.
We visited two buildings in Gernika: La Casa de Juntas de Gernika and La Fundación Museo de la Paz de Gernika. The first is where the infamous tree of Gernika stands. A new tree was required in 2005 when the old tree needed to be refreshed as they put it. The assembly house (which is in the shade of the tree) and the tree both symbolize the history of the Basque people. Meetings were held by representatives of the territory to discuss issues and problems of the province. Though the meetings were abolished for over a century, they began again in 1979, right around the same time ETA, the nationalist terrorist group was formed. Though there is no direct connection, I find it rather coincidental.
After la Casa de Juntas de Gernika, we headed off to the Museum of Peace. Each section of the museum posed a different question that related both to Pais Vasco itself, and its place in the world. The first themed question is “what is peace?” It addressed the concepts of peace, conflict, and resolution by providing different views and aspects of the topic. The next section is “what is the legacy of the bombing of Gernika?” This section was mainly an oral recording, which I struggled a bit with, as a great deal of the speeches were in Basque, a language I that entirely befuddles me. It however, addressed the bombing itself as well as the reconciliation between the survivors and their attackers. The last topic “what about peace in the world today?” was interesting as you literally looked through Picasso’s “Guernica” and are faced with attributes that contribute or detract from peace in the world today. Fantastic exhibit. I would highly recommend this to anyone who speaks Spanish. Though they have English tour guides available (so I was told) all of the writing is in first Basque, followed by Spanish. Therefore it would be rather hard to appreciate the museum without knowing the language.
It was certainly a day well spent as not only was Gernika itself gorgeous, but a little culture exposure is always a nice touch. Plus, the CIDE program offers great meals if you like good food. We had a cream of potato soup containing tuna, and a choice of octopus or cod fish for the entrée—both common, though expensive, Basque dishes.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
how silly of me
I recieved my first real homework assignment. By real, I am referring to a "long term" assignment, in which I will be writing five short papers. When one of my classmates inquired as to the due date of the assignment, my professor simply smiled, and said "assignments are due when you finish them". Well golly gee wizz. I can choose when I want to do my homework. How convenient. I however, not wanting to get behind, have already started.
This past weekend I had a friend visit me who is studying in Sevilla this semseter (Meredith Kamis). We decided to go hiking along the cliffs and mountains in Santander: stunningly beautiful. Santander is outside of Pais Vasco, and again, this is very apparent due to the hanging of the Spanish flag--everywhere. It was uncommon for us not to see a Spanish flag from any particalur spot we were standing down town. The reason why were were outside all day was because Friday was a holiday. Christiphor Columbus Day to be more exact. Actually its two holidays, but Christiphor Columbus day is one of them. I thought that was interesting.
Saturday we decided to explore the old part of the city, called Casco Viejo. Gorgeous area. Lots of shops and cafes, usually markets as well. Saturday however was shopping day, and there were too many people in the streets for the markets to be open. Shopping day, from what I gathered, meant that there were massive sales, and taxes were discounted. I didn´t quite take advantage, as I didn´t find anything that I really needed.
Saturday night was quite fun. We went out and were on our way to my favorite club when we passed a cafe that was still open. We peeked inside and were immeditaly waved in. It was a wedding party. We were wedding crashers. The bride and groom had left for their honeymoon and rented the cafe with an open bar for their wedding party. We quickly became the center of attention as everyone wanted to practice their English. I´ve found that wedding parties are usually a good bet for finding English speakers, as people generally travel for weddings, which heightens the chances that they´ll speak English.
Sunday was simply a chance relax and arrange the rest of our trips. We quickly became broke after booking three trips, and planning the fourth. Next weekend I´ll be off to Barcelona, in November I´m sneaking off to Sevilla, and in December I´ll going to finally experience Paris. I won´t lie. I´m a tad bit excited.
This past weekend I had a friend visit me who is studying in Sevilla this semseter (Meredith Kamis). We decided to go hiking along the cliffs and mountains in Santander: stunningly beautiful. Santander is outside of Pais Vasco, and again, this is very apparent due to the hanging of the Spanish flag--everywhere. It was uncommon for us not to see a Spanish flag from any particalur spot we were standing down town. The reason why were were outside all day was because Friday was a holiday. Christiphor Columbus Day to be more exact. Actually its two holidays, but Christiphor Columbus day is one of them. I thought that was interesting.
Saturday we decided to explore the old part of the city, called Casco Viejo. Gorgeous area. Lots of shops and cafes, usually markets as well. Saturday however was shopping day, and there were too many people in the streets for the markets to be open. Shopping day, from what I gathered, meant that there were massive sales, and taxes were discounted. I didn´t quite take advantage, as I didn´t find anything that I really needed.
Saturday night was quite fun. We went out and were on our way to my favorite club when we passed a cafe that was still open. We peeked inside and were immeditaly waved in. It was a wedding party. We were wedding crashers. The bride and groom had left for their honeymoon and rented the cafe with an open bar for their wedding party. We quickly became the center of attention as everyone wanted to practice their English. I´ve found that wedding parties are usually a good bet for finding English speakers, as people generally travel for weddings, which heightens the chances that they´ll speak English.
Sunday was simply a chance relax and arrange the rest of our trips. We quickly became broke after booking three trips, and planning the fourth. Next weekend I´ll be off to Barcelona, in November I´m sneaking off to Sevilla, and in December I´ll going to finally experience Paris. I won´t lie. I´m a tad bit excited.
Monday, October 15, 2007
Politically correct
Though I wouldn´t call it a women´s rights or a feminist movement, there is a need to be more politically correct when referring to women in Spain. This is not too much of a problem in English, but in Spanish all nouns and adjectives are either masculine or feminine. Nearly all nouns that end in an "O" are masculine in Spanish, and its gender partner would be the "A" for females. Therefore, when talking to a group of friends, one would have to choose between the words amigos, and amigas. Traditionally in Spain, this group would be called amigos, so long as there was at least one male. 1:9 ratio in favor of females? Shucks. Women would be out of luck, the word would still be amigos.
Times are changing however. Spanish is a continually changing language, especially in the agreement realm. Depending on the word, the plural term could be determined by the majority of the group, not simply the presence of a single male. Or, to make matters even more complicated, they would use both words, I am going out with my amigos and amigas. It elongates quite a bit. In the written language they are surpassing this barrier with a symbol we already commonly use. Amig@s. The "at" symbol qualifies as the neutered character, as it represents quite well both the "O" and "a".
This whole argument I am still a bit confused by, as gender of a word is not necessarily directly correlated to a sex. Picture for example is feminine, while eyes are masculine. Why? Beats me. But I know that all words are not related to sex, and therefore if we removed sex from this equation and simply focused on gender of the word, as I was taught I should learn, life here in Spain wouldn´t have to be complicated, and their dictionary wouldn´t have to be continually growing.
Times are changing however. Spanish is a continually changing language, especially in the agreement realm. Depending on the word, the plural term could be determined by the majority of the group, not simply the presence of a single male. Or, to make matters even more complicated, they would use both words, I am going out with my amigos and amigas. It elongates quite a bit. In the written language they are surpassing this barrier with a symbol we already commonly use. Amig@s. The "at" symbol qualifies as the neutered character, as it represents quite well both the "O" and "a".
This whole argument I am still a bit confused by, as gender of a word is not necessarily directly correlated to a sex. Picture for example is feminine, while eyes are masculine. Why? Beats me. But I know that all words are not related to sex, and therefore if we removed sex from this equation and simply focused on gender of the word, as I was taught I should learn, life here in Spain wouldn´t have to be complicated, and their dictionary wouldn´t have to be continually growing.
Friday, October 12, 2007
Delayed post on France.
I was debating whether or not to post about my trip to France last week, as it consisted of merely on a few hours. I was under the impression that we were going to spend the entire day in France, viewing an old seaport town and it´s sights. Instead, we were given maps, and allowed to roam the town ourselves for an hour and a half before having to return to the bus. Mind you, Biarritz was gorgeous. Biarrtiz is a town in France that is encapsulated in the French quarter of el Pais Vasco. The language that is spoken in the Spanish part of el Pais Vasco, was virtually non-existent in France.
It appears that the nationalism is much stronger in Spain than it is in France, as many French flags were waving from flag poles--I have yet to see many Spanish flags here, they are all Basque. Despite being let alone to do our own navigating, I did enjoy France while we were there. I asked for directions a few times, simply to talk to people in French. We took a coastal tour along the cliffs and saw the palace where Napoleon III stayed. As tempting as the open market foods were, we began to lose our appetites after seeing turkeys being sold, heads and feathers included.
Something I have found striking is that I still have yet to have my passport stamped by any country besides Spain. After now being to Italy, Vatican City, and France, no one took a second glance as I crossed the boarded. No identification needed. I hadn´t realized how state-esque the EU has made its countries. Having the same currency while travelling as certainly made life much easier.
Returning to my France trip, after we left Biarritz, we travelled to Loyola to see la Casa Torre of San Ignacio. San Ignacio was the founded of the Jesuit religion, and as nearly every culture is tied to its religion, our program leader decided that we should learn about Jesuit roots. It was a nice history lesson.
Travelling to France however, has now heightened my anticipation for going to Paris, which I will be doing in December. I am still blown away by how defined the culutres here are. Every city and country that I have now visited is very proud and has its distinct culture, a very regional nationalism. I´ve found that more people from Spain would say that they are from their Providence before their city, despite it being as well known as Sevilla or Barcelona. I will be learning more about Spanish nationalism in one of my classes, and am considering doing my research paper for my political theory class for it as well.
This weekend I have a friend from Richmond visiting, Meredith Kamis, who is studying in Sevilla for the semester. Thus I´ll be playing tour guide for the weekend, good practice for the end of the month! Miss everyone, yet am loving it here. Besos to all.
It appears that the nationalism is much stronger in Spain than it is in France, as many French flags were waving from flag poles--I have yet to see many Spanish flags here, they are all Basque. Despite being let alone to do our own navigating, I did enjoy France while we were there. I asked for directions a few times, simply to talk to people in French. We took a coastal tour along the cliffs and saw the palace where Napoleon III stayed. As tempting as the open market foods were, we began to lose our appetites after seeing turkeys being sold, heads and feathers included.
Something I have found striking is that I still have yet to have my passport stamped by any country besides Spain. After now being to Italy, Vatican City, and France, no one took a second glance as I crossed the boarded. No identification needed. I hadn´t realized how state-esque the EU has made its countries. Having the same currency while travelling as certainly made life much easier.
Returning to my France trip, after we left Biarritz, we travelled to Loyola to see la Casa Torre of San Ignacio. San Ignacio was the founded of the Jesuit religion, and as nearly every culture is tied to its religion, our program leader decided that we should learn about Jesuit roots. It was a nice history lesson.
Travelling to France however, has now heightened my anticipation for going to Paris, which I will be doing in December. I am still blown away by how defined the culutres here are. Every city and country that I have now visited is very proud and has its distinct culture, a very regional nationalism. I´ve found that more people from Spain would say that they are from their Providence before their city, despite it being as well known as Sevilla or Barcelona. I will be learning more about Spanish nationalism in one of my classes, and am considering doing my research paper for my political theory class for it as well.
This weekend I have a friend from Richmond visiting, Meredith Kamis, who is studying in Sevilla for the semester. Thus I´ll be playing tour guide for the weekend, good practice for the end of the month! Miss everyone, yet am loving it here. Besos to all.
Wednesday, October 10, 2007
After a month.
Reasons why I am still easily pegged as either an outsider, or an American.
1. I don´t wear all black, every day
2. I wear shorts at the gym
3. I go to the gym (being a female this is a bit unusual apparently)
4. I don´t smoke
5. I haven´t figured out how to weave my way through sidewalk traffic to avoid all the smoke
6. I don´t have bangs, a mohawk, mullet, dreadlocks, or a rat tail.
7. I do wear my hair in braids
8. I walk up the escalator
9. I smile. A lot.
10. I use the monthly metro pass.
11. I don´t use my umbrella unless it is actually raining
12. I prefer lined paper
13. I don´t drink coffee
14. I don´t talk during class, when the professor is talking
15. I ask questions in class, or go to office hours
16. I am never late to class
17. I don´t eat mayonnaise on my salad, chicken, or french fries (or anything for that matter)
18. I still squirm when eating vinegar saturated vegetables
19. I don´t own a pair of casual sneakers
20. I am actually have a personal space bubble
21. I´m blonde, naturally
22. I eat or drink while walking on the sidewalk
23. I am uneasy with the silence on the metro
24. I prefer not to go grocery shopping, every day
25. I like to use soap and paper towels when I wash my hands
26. I am accustomed to having toilet paper in the bathrooms
27. I understand every song that comes on the radio in the grocery stores or at the gym, because they are all in English
28. I am tall. Taller than most men here.
29. I don´t like ham, cheese, eggs, or seafood--the most common food here
30. I actually like it here, and am happy to be here. I feel like I am the only one!
1. I don´t wear all black, every day
2. I wear shorts at the gym
3. I go to the gym (being a female this is a bit unusual apparently)
4. I don´t smoke
5. I haven´t figured out how to weave my way through sidewalk traffic to avoid all the smoke
6. I don´t have bangs, a mohawk, mullet, dreadlocks, or a rat tail.
7. I do wear my hair in braids
8. I walk up the escalator
9. I smile. A lot.
10. I use the monthly metro pass.
11. I don´t use my umbrella unless it is actually raining
12. I prefer lined paper
13. I don´t drink coffee
14. I don´t talk during class, when the professor is talking
15. I ask questions in class, or go to office hours
16. I am never late to class
17. I don´t eat mayonnaise on my salad, chicken, or french fries (or anything for that matter)
18. I still squirm when eating vinegar saturated vegetables
19. I don´t own a pair of casual sneakers
20. I am actually have a personal space bubble
21. I´m blonde, naturally
22. I eat or drink while walking on the sidewalk
23. I am uneasy with the silence on the metro
24. I prefer not to go grocery shopping, every day
25. I like to use soap and paper towels when I wash my hands
26. I am accustomed to having toilet paper in the bathrooms
27. I understand every song that comes on the radio in the grocery stores or at the gym, because they are all in English
28. I am tall. Taller than most men here.
29. I don´t like ham, cheese, eggs, or seafood--the most common food here
30. I actually like it here, and am happy to be here. I feel like I am the only one!
Thursday, October 4, 2007
At least I wasn´t the only one.
I survived the first week of classes. By survived, I actually mean understood all my classes--but one. I was forewarned before I arrived in Spain that the classes would be very large, only lecture, and grades would comprise of entirely the final. Wrong on all accounts. I have attendance requirements, which is not something I planned on. I have to write papers, which wouldn´t so too bad, except I don´t know how 15 page Spanish papers will look. Participation is required, in all my classes. My biggest class now has about 35 students, my smallest five.
The one that has five only meets once a week, Thursday nights, for 3.5 hours. Modern Political Theory. Today was my first session of this class, and I get there early, in case the class in full, to get a seat towards the front. By the time class started, there were two other students (both in their mid-twenties) and someone who looked like he might be a graduate student helping teach the class. Our professor walks in, looks at me, and asks "what are you doing here?". (keep in mind yes, this is in Spanish)
"I´m here to study political theory"
"No, more general. Why are you here?"
"To learn about another culture, and to improve my Spanish"
"Where did you come from?"
"The United States"
At this point he simply shook his head in despair and proceed to ask the graduate student next to me the same question, "why are you here?" "I am here because according to ----- theory (still don´t know which theory it was) nature must not only reproduce, but produce new things before reproducing itself....."
Of course. How silly of me not to have known that. Failed task one. I then had some saving grace when he ask me to name five current presidents. He then fired questions at as, and since there were multiple answers, and we had a small group, everyone had to respond. I immediately began answering first, simply because I didn´t want my answers taken. Bad call. The professor then felt I had redeemed myself, and knew what I was talking about.
After 2.5 hours, he decided to let us out early, to give us time to prepare our research topics for the semester. Lost, I asked "I didn´t know we had a research project, what is it about?" "Modern Political Theory", laughs, and leaves. Greatttt.
The other 4 students in class however were as wide-eyed as I was, and we had a pow-wow to attempt to figure what had just taken place during the past few hours. We collectively decided that he wanted us to create a question orientated thesis regarding a basis human theory, and connect it to Sociology and Politics. Fantastic. No pressure.
I have come to a conclusion however. I can argue and debate better about politics or academic related fields better than I can order food in a restaurant in Spanish. My basic Spanish still has wide gaps, which will hopefully be closed upon my return home. Yet my points, as odd as they are, are conveyed quite clearly in class. Go figure.
Tomorrow I am off to the south of France with another preplanned trip with the Americans. Incredibly excited that I will have been to Italy and France in the same week--two places I´ve always wanted to visit.
The one that has five only meets once a week, Thursday nights, for 3.5 hours. Modern Political Theory. Today was my first session of this class, and I get there early, in case the class in full, to get a seat towards the front. By the time class started, there were two other students (both in their mid-twenties) and someone who looked like he might be a graduate student helping teach the class. Our professor walks in, looks at me, and asks "what are you doing here?". (keep in mind yes, this is in Spanish)
"I´m here to study political theory"
"No, more general. Why are you here?"
"To learn about another culture, and to improve my Spanish"
"Where did you come from?"
"The United States"
At this point he simply shook his head in despair and proceed to ask the graduate student next to me the same question, "why are you here?" "I am here because according to ----- theory (still don´t know which theory it was) nature must not only reproduce, but produce new things before reproducing itself....."
Of course. How silly of me not to have known that. Failed task one. I then had some saving grace when he ask me to name five current presidents. He then fired questions at as, and since there were multiple answers, and we had a small group, everyone had to respond. I immediately began answering first, simply because I didn´t want my answers taken. Bad call. The professor then felt I had redeemed myself, and knew what I was talking about.
After 2.5 hours, he decided to let us out early, to give us time to prepare our research topics for the semester. Lost, I asked "I didn´t know we had a research project, what is it about?" "Modern Political Theory", laughs, and leaves. Greatttt.
The other 4 students in class however were as wide-eyed as I was, and we had a pow-wow to attempt to figure what had just taken place during the past few hours. We collectively decided that he wanted us to create a question orientated thesis regarding a basis human theory, and connect it to Sociology and Politics. Fantastic. No pressure.
I have come to a conclusion however. I can argue and debate better about politics or academic related fields better than I can order food in a restaurant in Spanish. My basic Spanish still has wide gaps, which will hopefully be closed upon my return home. Yet my points, as odd as they are, are conveyed quite clearly in class. Go figure.
Tomorrow I am off to the south of France with another preplanned trip with the Americans. Incredibly excited that I will have been to Italy and France in the same week--two places I´ve always wanted to visit.
Tuesday, October 2, 2007
Welcome to the World of Spanish Classes.
Three down and one to go. I successful have made it through 3 of my classes, understanding the lectures AND the homework assignments. That was a huge plus. I am a bit confused as to why no professors here like syllabi, and as I am a huge fan of them, may struggle without them. Especially with my fluency level, being able to work ahead would be a great asset, but alas, that ball is not in my court.
The hallways are swarming with students. However, when I say students, it refers to people studying, not necessarily the college age type student you might envision. For example, today I sat behind two 30 year old women. I know, it´s strange that I would ever sit behind someone, as I generally am in the front row, but I was sadly too intimidated to do such today. I am glad that I have time between my classes, as I would never be able to navigate a path through the congestion of people packed into the hallways. There are 17,000 students at Deusto, and two buildings in which classes are held. The halls, library, and cafeteria are all utter chaos.
The classes however are not nearly as large as I envisioned. I was forewarned that as there is no cap on classes, a lecture hall could be filled with close to 125 students. My largest class thus far however, probably only has about 40 students. Definitely manageable.
I do have rather early classes, I´ll have to wake up at 6:15 on Wednesdays to get ready, catch the metro, walk to campus for class to start at 8:00. It was a fair trade though, as I have a travel cushion on free Fridays and late classes on Mondays. I envision it will be worth it. I may need to bring my flashlight on Wednesdays´s though, as the sun rises around 8:00. It will definitely be entertaining. Maybe I´ll finally see empty streets, as that as not yet occurred.
The hallways are swarming with students. However, when I say students, it refers to people studying, not necessarily the college age type student you might envision. For example, today I sat behind two 30 year old women. I know, it´s strange that I would ever sit behind someone, as I generally am in the front row, but I was sadly too intimidated to do such today. I am glad that I have time between my classes, as I would never be able to navigate a path through the congestion of people packed into the hallways. There are 17,000 students at Deusto, and two buildings in which classes are held. The halls, library, and cafeteria are all utter chaos.
The classes however are not nearly as large as I envisioned. I was forewarned that as there is no cap on classes, a lecture hall could be filled with close to 125 students. My largest class thus far however, probably only has about 40 students. Definitely manageable.
I do have rather early classes, I´ll have to wake up at 6:15 on Wednesdays to get ready, catch the metro, walk to campus for class to start at 8:00. It was a fair trade though, as I have a travel cushion on free Fridays and late classes on Mondays. I envision it will be worth it. I may need to bring my flashlight on Wednesdays´s though, as the sun rises around 8:00. It will definitely be entertaining. Maybe I´ll finally see empty streets, as that as not yet occurred.
Gladiators Glory.
After the Vatican we were a bit weary that we had chosen the most impressive attraction as our first one. We were wrong. The Colosseum was amazing. We arrived early again, to miss the lines, of which there were none, and we were told admission was free that day. Perfect. Thus we splurged for the audio tour, hesitating, but electing to do it English instead of Spanish. It was a good call, as I would have been disappointed to miss out on the tour.
When the Colosseum opened, 5,000 animals were killed in the first hundred days. It was a slaughter house. When the Colosseum was in its prime, the Romans had 140 holidays in which it was used. Everyone gained free entrance, and were assigned seats prior to their arrival. The senators sat in the front rows with their names engraved on their seats.
Though the Colosseum is nearly all ruins on the inside, you could still see the cells where they housed the slaves and animals that fought for their lives in front of what they believe were nearly 50,000 viewers. I was unaware the that Colosseum later became a place of Christian interest, as the early Christian Priests claimed that the games were unjust and were not permitted. Thus many Christians were killed for this at the time, and now the Colosseum is a remembrance of the Christian martyrs who died for their beliefs. After the Colosseum we headed over to the Roman Forum and Palatine Hill, both of which were complete ruins.
I had to return to the Colosseum our final evening just so that I could take pictures at sunset. My best pictures were of this massive construction; which I am rather pleased about.
When the Colosseum opened, 5,000 animals were killed in the first hundred days. It was a slaughter house. When the Colosseum was in its prime, the Romans had 140 holidays in which it was used. Everyone gained free entrance, and were assigned seats prior to their arrival. The senators sat in the front rows with their names engraved on their seats.
Though the Colosseum is nearly all ruins on the inside, you could still see the cells where they housed the slaves and animals that fought for their lives in front of what they believe were nearly 50,000 viewers. I was unaware the that Colosseum later became a place of Christian interest, as the early Christian Priests claimed that the games were unjust and were not permitted. Thus many Christians were killed for this at the time, and now the Colosseum is a remembrance of the Christian martyrs who died for their beliefs. After the Colosseum we headed over to the Roman Forum and Palatine Hill, both of which were complete ruins.
I had to return to the Colosseum our final evening just so that I could take pictures at sunset. My best pictures were of this massive construction; which I am rather pleased about.
The Vatican
Though as I mentioned before, nearly all admissions were free in Rome, we opted not to do the free tour of the Sistine Chapel. The last Sunday of the month, that the Pope was speaking, we decided that it would be far too chaotic to attempted. Thus the Vatican was our first stop, Friday morning. Though we arrived early, an hour before they opened, we waited in line for nearly two hours in the rain to gain entrance to the Chapel. We made some friends, mainly those trying to sell us umbrellas despite the fact that we were each appropriately attired with them.
The Chapel was overwhelming. There was too much to see. You could spend hours in every room, just admiring all the art work that was put into every column, window, wall and painting. One of the most impressive rooms was done entirely in mosaics, floor included. It was spectacular. I was previously unaware of the Egyptian architecture influence that many of the rooms. I fancied the statues and actual framework to the paintings and tapestries, but everything was impressive.
We we arrived in the actual chapel, we were rather amazed. For two reasons: it was incredible, and nothing like we expected. The ceiling was not domed, as we all had envisioned, and the main piece was not what we had previously envisioned. We are still on a hunt to find what room we all had expected the Sistine Chapel to look like, as we all had similar images in mind.
After the Chapel we headed off to the St. Peter´s Basilica which was a masterpiece as well. The Center Square where we waited in line gave us a great view of the Roman columns and fountains that surround the Basilica. The best aspect of the Basilica was the Copula (the outer top of the dome, with a panoramic view of the city). None of us actually knew what Copula meant, but saw a long line, which we translated to mean that this was a site worth seeing. All we knew is that we had to climb 525 stairs. So we did. I felt however, that we were climbing a castle to the towers and the staircases were very narrow, titled, and spiralling. Without the center rope, we would have fallen--especially on the way back down. The hike was well worth it however, as it was gorgeous view, not just of the Vatican, but of the whole city.
We spent the whole day at those two attractions, and it was a day well spent. Religious or not, everyone who entered the Vatican was impressed.
The Chapel was overwhelming. There was too much to see. You could spend hours in every room, just admiring all the art work that was put into every column, window, wall and painting. One of the most impressive rooms was done entirely in mosaics, floor included. It was spectacular. I was previously unaware of the Egyptian architecture influence that many of the rooms. I fancied the statues and actual framework to the paintings and tapestries, but everything was impressive.
We we arrived in the actual chapel, we were rather amazed. For two reasons: it was incredible, and nothing like we expected. The ceiling was not domed, as we all had envisioned, and the main piece was not what we had previously envisioned. We are still on a hunt to find what room we all had expected the Sistine Chapel to look like, as we all had similar images in mind.
After the Chapel we headed off to the St. Peter´s Basilica which was a masterpiece as well. The Center Square where we waited in line gave us a great view of the Roman columns and fountains that surround the Basilica. The best aspect of the Basilica was the Copula (the outer top of the dome, with a panoramic view of the city). None of us actually knew what Copula meant, but saw a long line, which we translated to mean that this was a site worth seeing. All we knew is that we had to climb 525 stairs. So we did. I felt however, that we were climbing a castle to the towers and the staircases were very narrow, titled, and spiralling. Without the center rope, we would have fallen--especially on the way back down. The hike was well worth it however, as it was gorgeous view, not just of the Vatican, but of the whole city.
We spent the whole day at those two attractions, and it was a day well spent. Religious or not, everyone who entered the Vatican was impressed.
The Big Picture of Rome
6 buses and two planes later, I am safe after my trip to Rome. This trip was cheap for a reason—traveling was not the most direct route. The only time we actually used public transportation however, was to and from Rome, once we were there, map in hand, we walked everywhere.
I’ve decided I like hostels—a lot actually. They are inexpensive, welcoming, and you get to meet a multitude of people. Lindsey, Terese, and I slept in an 8 person mixed room. Every night all the beds were occupied, and we never saw the same people for more than 2 nights. I thoroughly enjoyed coming “home” exhausted, and hearing about everyone else’s travels. The conversations in the room most nights would be in Spanish, which was interesting. Though everyone knew English, Spanish was many of the other travelers’ first languages, so lucky me; I still got to practice my Spanish.
I never however, got to use my superb Italian skills. I ever had a hand written dictionary of 20 useful phrases that I thought I should know. Everyone however, knows English there, or if I had to, I would resort to Spanish as a second option. I was blown away at how easy it was to spend the weekend in Rome. The city was incredibly easy to navigate, our hostel was in a prime location, walking distance from every sight we wanted to see, and we didn’t have to worry about a language barrier, as there was none. Tours for all the museums could be given in English, Spanish, French, German, Chinese, Japanese or Korean. On the topic of the overall museums, nearly everything was free. It was “European Days of Patrimony” and the last Sunday of the month, which apparently translated into all admissions being free (which the exception of the Sistine Chapel, which god forbid, I had to cough up 8 Euros for.
The food of course, as anticipated was phenomenal. I love Italian food. I really was struggling to ever be hungry, as it was too hard to resist eating all the wonderful food. We ate gelato on the Spanish steps. Were serenaded outside the Trevi Fountain while enjoying our three course meal. Devoured pizza and calzones at an outdoor patio on a side street. Really, we quite enjoyed the Italian diet.
I’ve decided I like hostels—a lot actually. They are inexpensive, welcoming, and you get to meet a multitude of people. Lindsey, Terese, and I slept in an 8 person mixed room. Every night all the beds were occupied, and we never saw the same people for more than 2 nights. I thoroughly enjoyed coming “home” exhausted, and hearing about everyone else’s travels. The conversations in the room most nights would be in Spanish, which was interesting. Though everyone knew English, Spanish was many of the other travelers’ first languages, so lucky me; I still got to practice my Spanish.
I never however, got to use my superb Italian skills. I ever had a hand written dictionary of 20 useful phrases that I thought I should know. Everyone however, knows English there, or if I had to, I would resort to Spanish as a second option. I was blown away at how easy it was to spend the weekend in Rome. The city was incredibly easy to navigate, our hostel was in a prime location, walking distance from every sight we wanted to see, and we didn’t have to worry about a language barrier, as there was none. Tours for all the museums could be given in English, Spanish, French, German, Chinese, Japanese or Korean. On the topic of the overall museums, nearly everything was free. It was “European Days of Patrimony” and the last Sunday of the month, which apparently translated into all admissions being free (which the exception of the Sistine Chapel, which god forbid, I had to cough up 8 Euros for.
The food of course, as anticipated was phenomenal. I love Italian food. I really was struggling to ever be hungry, as it was too hard to resist eating all the wonderful food. We ate gelato on the Spanish steps. Were serenaded outside the Trevi Fountain while enjoying our three course meal. Devoured pizza and calzones at an outdoor patio on a side street. Really, we quite enjoyed the Italian diet.
Tuesday, September 25, 2007
I meant well.
I got the older of the two boys, JouAndar, into trouble today at school. Last night at the dinner table, we were reviewing his homework. He was asked to list all of the continents, and all the capitals in Europe he knew. Perfect, I could finally help. I listed the seven continents for him, at which point he told me his teacher explained to him that there were only five. I however, recalling my 4th grade geography well, was insistent that there was indeed 7 continents, then looked it up on the Internet just to make sure. Indeed, wikipedia proved that there were seven.
The capital game was quite entertaining as well, as I don´t quite know all of the country names in Spanish yet. So they gave me a map with all the countries on it, and I told them the capitals. I knew nearly a dozen. I was pleased.
Tonight´s dinner however, ran much differently. When JouAndar pulled out his homework, he indeed had five clearly listed continents: Africa, Asia, Europe, America and Oceania. I was impressed that he titled it Oceania as opposed to Australia, because he didn´t seem to understand that concept the night before. Yet, he was missing Antarctica, and clumped the two Americas together. He told his teacher that his exchange student had helped him with his homework (which was "wrong"). His teacher then asked him if I lived in a Spanish speaking country. Apparently, Hispanic countries are taught that there are indeed only 5 continents. Antarctica is considered part of Oceania, but doesn´t really even count as an existence, because no one lives there. The Americas aren´t separated, and thus are grouped together. I want to ask his teacher then, why Europe and Asia aren´t considered one continent then. I sent JouAndar in with a mission, ask his teacher the definition of a continent, because I am really interested to know how they justify this. It is time´s like this when I really appreciate living with a family that has kids, otherwise we´d never have conversations like this.
The capital game was quite entertaining as well, as I don´t quite know all of the country names in Spanish yet. So they gave me a map with all the countries on it, and I told them the capitals. I knew nearly a dozen. I was pleased.
Tonight´s dinner however, ran much differently. When JouAndar pulled out his homework, he indeed had five clearly listed continents: Africa, Asia, Europe, America and Oceania. I was impressed that he titled it Oceania as opposed to Australia, because he didn´t seem to understand that concept the night before. Yet, he was missing Antarctica, and clumped the two Americas together. He told his teacher that his exchange student had helped him with his homework (which was "wrong"). His teacher then asked him if I lived in a Spanish speaking country. Apparently, Hispanic countries are taught that there are indeed only 5 continents. Antarctica is considered part of Oceania, but doesn´t really even count as an existence, because no one lives there. The Americas aren´t separated, and thus are grouped together. I want to ask his teacher then, why Europe and Asia aren´t considered one continent then. I sent JouAndar in with a mission, ask his teacher the definition of a continent, because I am really interested to know how they justify this. It is time´s like this when I really appreciate living with a family that has kids, otherwise we´d never have conversations like this.
Sunday, September 23, 2007
Madrid and Toledo
I apologize for the lack of recent posting, last week not quite worthy enough to relive for you. However, this past weekend I had a splendid time down in Madrid and Toledo. The American class that I have, takes trips. They brought us to Madrid for the weekend. All expenses included. Sweet deal.
We took a bus to Madrid early Friday morning, it took just over 5 hours. We had a 3 course lunch consisting of an spinach tortilla, smoked salmon, and flan. It was enjoyed be nearly everyone. Our first cultural visit was to the Palacio Real, where the Kings of Spain used to live. It was both extravagant, yet incredibly well done. The rooms themselves were very thematic, including rooms representations of countries into which some of the Kings had travelled to, such as India, or China. I am continually impressed with the ceilings, whether they be sculptured or painted, I am still a bit baffled by how they are created. I was a bit surprised half way through the tour when I realized that our tour guide did not have a microphone, yet she was speaking to a group of 60 studenst who all could hear her perfectly. Whomever built this palace was indeed a marvelous architect.
Our tour guide then brought us to the Plaza Mayor, which is the old town square. There was a wedding going on, open air markets, outdoor cafes, quite peaceful. The square itself is entirely apartment buildings now, which remained to be quite comical viewing spots for the events that took place Saturday night.
The rest of the afternoon was both sunny and entertaining, but we desperately needed out rest for the following day. The group headed off to Toledo, which used to the be the Capital of Spain before it was moved to Madrid. The cities walls were pretty and practical--like nearly all of the city was as well. We proceeded to go to "the cathedral" in Toledo, which is one of the most unique examples of Gothic architecture in Spain. The building itself was a bit overwhelming, something to look at on every wall, column, ceiling, and seat. We did however have perhaps the most energetic and entertaining tour guide I have ever had--his attempts at using English phases to get us to listen tied in quite nicely with his presentation. One of the rooms was perhaps 30 yards, quite a long room. It was the changing room for the Priest. The most impressive feature however, yet again, was the ceiling. An Italian painter, whose name I have forgotten, painted the ceiling, which both hands simultaneously, in less than 70 days. I am unsure of whether or not he slept.
Speaking of sleeping, Saturday night was not a night of rest. It was the Noche Blanco in the city, which literally means white night. It was when all of the museums, monuments, and performances do not close until 7am and generally do not charge admission either. This is the perfect opportunity to really experience both the museums and the culture of the people. A small group of 5 of us headed off to the Reina Sofia, perhaps the best art museum I have ever been to. It was mainly 19th century art ranging for Picasso to very young artists in my generation. I am still attempting to find a working definition for what art exactly is, so if anyone has any ideas, please share.
After the Reina Sofia, our 4th museum in 24 hours, we decided simply to people watch, and try and catch a performance. We walked quite a few miles that night, as after policemen had to monitor the metros because the doors literally could not shut, we all decided we were too claustrophobic and paranoid to repeat that experience. Along our walk we noticed something quite impressive--though everyone in the streets were drinking, no one was too intoxicated to enjoy the opportunities at hand. I am quite impressed which how well the Spainards seem to acknowledge their alcohol limit.
After taking a nap we woke up this morning to tour the Prado, another incredibly impressive art museum. This included artists from Goya to el Greco and quite an extensive exhibit on Joachim Patinir as well. It is free on Sundays, which meant that it was rather full. I believe that the best part of the museum was the Patinir exhibit, it included paintings in window frames that I greatly enjoyed.
Overall, the weekend trip to Madrid was, though a bit exhausting, an incredible time. A place I am certainly glad to have visited, and am excited to see more of it during my stay here. This week I am actually off to Rome for a few days before classes begin, so do not expect posts during the week, but rather lengthy ones at the beginning of October. Hope all is well.
We took a bus to Madrid early Friday morning, it took just over 5 hours. We had a 3 course lunch consisting of an spinach tortilla, smoked salmon, and flan. It was enjoyed be nearly everyone. Our first cultural visit was to the Palacio Real, where the Kings of Spain used to live. It was both extravagant, yet incredibly well done. The rooms themselves were very thematic, including rooms representations of countries into which some of the Kings had travelled to, such as India, or China. I am continually impressed with the ceilings, whether they be sculptured or painted, I am still a bit baffled by how they are created. I was a bit surprised half way through the tour when I realized that our tour guide did not have a microphone, yet she was speaking to a group of 60 studenst who all could hear her perfectly. Whomever built this palace was indeed a marvelous architect.
Our tour guide then brought us to the Plaza Mayor, which is the old town square. There was a wedding going on, open air markets, outdoor cafes, quite peaceful. The square itself is entirely apartment buildings now, which remained to be quite comical viewing spots for the events that took place Saturday night.
The rest of the afternoon was both sunny and entertaining, but we desperately needed out rest for the following day. The group headed off to Toledo, which used to the be the Capital of Spain before it was moved to Madrid. The cities walls were pretty and practical--like nearly all of the city was as well. We proceeded to go to "the cathedral" in Toledo, which is one of the most unique examples of Gothic architecture in Spain. The building itself was a bit overwhelming, something to look at on every wall, column, ceiling, and seat. We did however have perhaps the most energetic and entertaining tour guide I have ever had--his attempts at using English phases to get us to listen tied in quite nicely with his presentation. One of the rooms was perhaps 30 yards, quite a long room. It was the changing room for the Priest. The most impressive feature however, yet again, was the ceiling. An Italian painter, whose name I have forgotten, painted the ceiling, which both hands simultaneously, in less than 70 days. I am unsure of whether or not he slept.
Speaking of sleeping, Saturday night was not a night of rest. It was the Noche Blanco in the city, which literally means white night. It was when all of the museums, monuments, and performances do not close until 7am and generally do not charge admission either. This is the perfect opportunity to really experience both the museums and the culture of the people. A small group of 5 of us headed off to the Reina Sofia, perhaps the best art museum I have ever been to. It was mainly 19th century art ranging for Picasso to very young artists in my generation. I am still attempting to find a working definition for what art exactly is, so if anyone has any ideas, please share.
After the Reina Sofia, our 4th museum in 24 hours, we decided simply to people watch, and try and catch a performance. We walked quite a few miles that night, as after policemen had to monitor the metros because the doors literally could not shut, we all decided we were too claustrophobic and paranoid to repeat that experience. Along our walk we noticed something quite impressive--though everyone in the streets were drinking, no one was too intoxicated to enjoy the opportunities at hand. I am quite impressed which how well the Spainards seem to acknowledge their alcohol limit.
After taking a nap we woke up this morning to tour the Prado, another incredibly impressive art museum. This included artists from Goya to el Greco and quite an extensive exhibit on Joachim Patinir as well. It is free on Sundays, which meant that it was rather full. I believe that the best part of the museum was the Patinir exhibit, it included paintings in window frames that I greatly enjoyed.
Overall, the weekend trip to Madrid was, though a bit exhausting, an incredible time. A place I am certainly glad to have visited, and am excited to see more of it during my stay here. This week I am actually off to Rome for a few days before classes begin, so do not expect posts during the week, but rather lengthy ones at the beginning of October. Hope all is well.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
Northern Spain
The dogs are everywhere. Dogs in the park. Dogs in the street. Dogs in the School. Dogs in the bars. Yet, they are silent! The dogs here must be mute, because honestly, I have yet to hear more than one or two of them bark since I have been here. It is quite different. Most often they are leash-less. I have decided that if I ever want a dog, I may consider getting a trained one from Spain.
On a more relevant matter, today was the warmest day since I arrived in Spain. Since we already had plans to go to the northern shore of Spain, it worked out quite nicely. The water was cold, however, I braved it, and played in the waves after running on the beach. Really it was quite delightful. Then we were toured around the city by Richmond students who are studying there. Along our tour I was introduced to gelato. Horrendous idea. It was amazing. A bad thing to find out so early along in my trip, as I will now know how good it is when I pass it daily going to school. San Sebastian itself was splendid however. It has a much more Spanish atmosphere than Bilbao, perhaps because it is a quainter city. It had the traditional shops and outdoor cafes, fantastic architecture, and markets.
I will actually be quite busy for the next few weekends, as I have a few trips on my agenda. Madrid and Toledo being this upcoming weekend. This week will be my last week of my Spanish class, which has progressively been useful. I was joking with my teacher that I am better versed in caring out a conversation on immigration or culture than I am ordering food at a restaurant in Spanish. She laughed, agreeably however. Fantastic.
On a more relevant matter, today was the warmest day since I arrived in Spain. Since we already had plans to go to the northern shore of Spain, it worked out quite nicely. The water was cold, however, I braved it, and played in the waves after running on the beach. Really it was quite delightful. Then we were toured around the city by Richmond students who are studying there. Along our tour I was introduced to gelato. Horrendous idea. It was amazing. A bad thing to find out so early along in my trip, as I will now know how good it is when I pass it daily going to school. San Sebastian itself was splendid however. It has a much more Spanish atmosphere than Bilbao, perhaps because it is a quainter city. It had the traditional shops and outdoor cafes, fantastic architecture, and markets.
I will actually be quite busy for the next few weekends, as I have a few trips on my agenda. Madrid and Toledo being this upcoming weekend. This week will be my last week of my Spanish class, which has progressively been useful. I was joking with my teacher that I am better versed in caring out a conversation on immigration or culture than I am ordering food at a restaurant in Spanish. She laughed, agreeably however. Fantastic.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Adjustment Period Dwindling.
It is funny the things that you appreciate while living abroad. Lined paper for example. Every notebook in every story is graph paper, apparently it is normal here. It wouldn´t be terrible, except that when I have to write a two page essay, it has to be both single-spaced, and there are 52 lines per page. Which translates into, around a four page paper. Luckily, I have had easy assignments, so the only book I have to use is my dictionary, but when classes begin, it may be a struggle.
Speaking of class, I officially began getting worried today. I knew that I would only be taking one class with the Americans, and the rest with the Spaniards. I was fine with that. I also assumed, that all of the European students, whom I have been taking my Spanish class with this month, would be in the same situation as me. No. They are all enrolled in a program similar to the American students, the classes are in Spanish, but they simultaneously learn both the language and the content of the class. Essentially, I thought that there would be others in my classes that would be learning the language. I was however, wrong.
My family still remains to be quite entertaining. The boys started school yesterday, the older one attends a public school, the younger one a private. All the students who attend a public school are required to learn Euskera, the language of the Basque country. That is one of the main reasons why the younger son, Daniel, is attending a private school, so that his first foreign language is English as opposed to Euskera.
As I am gone for lunch, the biggest meal of the day, I only have breakfast and dinner with the family. I introduced them to oatmeal, as I was tired of having cookies and croissants for breakfast. They all think it is far too healthy, but the family has an contagious sweet tooth--once one of them has something sweet, the container is gone shortly there after. Soup is a big part of this family´s diet. We have soup for dinner nearly every other night. Tonight however, we had salad, for which they do not use any dressings. Mi señora doesn´t use fresh veg tables, instead everything is canned, and preserved in vinegar. The salad, therefore, is covered in vinegar. I opt to use oil to tone the taste down, mi señora however, prefers mayonnaise. I have not seen "su amigo" for over a week now. I miss having him around!
I actually have quite a bit of travelling planned for the next few weeks, so that my travels won´t interfere with classes. This weekend I am off to the northern shore to go see a film festival. Then if I return on time I will watch the fútbol game on Sunday. The following weekend is Madrid and Toledo, which is one of the excursions with the American students. So my travels for the mean time are still within Spanish parameters, which is exactly what I wanted for my first trips. I´ll keep you posted as to how they go.
Speaking of class, I officially began getting worried today. I knew that I would only be taking one class with the Americans, and the rest with the Spaniards. I was fine with that. I also assumed, that all of the European students, whom I have been taking my Spanish class with this month, would be in the same situation as me. No. They are all enrolled in a program similar to the American students, the classes are in Spanish, but they simultaneously learn both the language and the content of the class. Essentially, I thought that there would be others in my classes that would be learning the language. I was however, wrong.
My family still remains to be quite entertaining. The boys started school yesterday, the older one attends a public school, the younger one a private. All the students who attend a public school are required to learn Euskera, the language of the Basque country. That is one of the main reasons why the younger son, Daniel, is attending a private school, so that his first foreign language is English as opposed to Euskera.
As I am gone for lunch, the biggest meal of the day, I only have breakfast and dinner with the family. I introduced them to oatmeal, as I was tired of having cookies and croissants for breakfast. They all think it is far too healthy, but the family has an contagious sweet tooth--once one of them has something sweet, the container is gone shortly there after. Soup is a big part of this family´s diet. We have soup for dinner nearly every other night. Tonight however, we had salad, for which they do not use any dressings. Mi señora doesn´t use fresh veg tables, instead everything is canned, and preserved in vinegar. The salad, therefore, is covered in vinegar. I opt to use oil to tone the taste down, mi señora however, prefers mayonnaise. I have not seen "su amigo" for over a week now. I miss having him around!
I actually have quite a bit of travelling planned for the next few weeks, so that my travels won´t interfere with classes. This weekend I am off to the northern shore to go see a film festival. Then if I return on time I will watch the fútbol game on Sunday. The following weekend is Madrid and Toledo, which is one of the excursions with the American students. So my travels for the mean time are still within Spanish parameters, which is exactly what I wanted for my first trips. I´ll keep you posted as to how they go.
Thursday, September 6, 2007
Los Americanos
I found the Americans. Up until today, there were only two other Americans on campus, all the other students are from various countries throughout Europe. This is because like me, most of the students from Europe will be taking their classes with the Spaniards. All the other colleges from America, are in the immersion program, which means that though they take their classes in Spanish, it is a lot more constructive to the language. The teachers know that the students are learning Spanish, and thus will include grammar lessons amidst the information at hand.
I found the American students, because Richmond offers a program that allows us to take one course with them, and go on excursions as well. It´s not a bad deal at all. Today we went to the coastal regional of Spain, to learn a bit about the fishing villages. However, it essentially turned into us mingling with the Spaniards on the beach, rather than actually undergoing the tour. I did learn something quite interesting though. During the 19th century, when the fishing boats would be gone for long periods of time, the fisherman would paint their boats with certain symbols, and then have the same symbol painted on their doors at home. I was a bit lost at this point in the conversation, but I believe that the symbols were much like family crests.
I was quite pleased with the beach. As I am not a huge fan of swimming, I had no real intention of actually entering the water. No one did, as we didn´t have the time, or the proper attire. The water itself looked just as I envision the Mediterranean--a greenish tint, very clear, very calm. I wish that I had better pictures, but it was extermely bright out and the sun had a rather strong glare.
I am continuing to enjoy myself, though still adjusting a bit to city life. The bus system remains to be a mystery to me, as I there are four different companies, and over 200 buses total. I know that I have to not only change buses, but companies as well. Since I have decided that it is near impossible for me to get lost on foot, as this city has such great landmarks, that I can either walk or use the metro no matter where I go. However, I am saying that in September when the weather is still fabulous. Through necessity I suppose that I will resort to the buses as opposed to freezing trekking home after going out at night.
I am now off to preform my daily immersion ritual--reading the newspaper. Great way to learn the language, and know what is going on in the country. Life is good.
I found the American students, because Richmond offers a program that allows us to take one course with them, and go on excursions as well. It´s not a bad deal at all. Today we went to the coastal regional of Spain, to learn a bit about the fishing villages. However, it essentially turned into us mingling with the Spaniards on the beach, rather than actually undergoing the tour. I did learn something quite interesting though. During the 19th century, when the fishing boats would be gone for long periods of time, the fisherman would paint their boats with certain symbols, and then have the same symbol painted on their doors at home. I was a bit lost at this point in the conversation, but I believe that the symbols were much like family crests.
I was quite pleased with the beach. As I am not a huge fan of swimming, I had no real intention of actually entering the water. No one did, as we didn´t have the time, or the proper attire. The water itself looked just as I envision the Mediterranean--a greenish tint, very clear, very calm. I wish that I had better pictures, but it was extermely bright out and the sun had a rather strong glare.
I am continuing to enjoy myself, though still adjusting a bit to city life. The bus system remains to be a mystery to me, as I there are four different companies, and over 200 buses total. I know that I have to not only change buses, but companies as well. Since I have decided that it is near impossible for me to get lost on foot, as this city has such great landmarks, that I can either walk or use the metro no matter where I go. However, I am saying that in September when the weather is still fabulous. Through necessity I suppose that I will resort to the buses as opposed to freezing trekking home after going out at night.
I am now off to preform my daily immersion ritual--reading the newspaper. Great way to learn the language, and know what is going on in the country. Life is good.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
Deusto
I felt rather reassured today at orientation, when I understand every instruction and piece of information given during the hour and a half meeting. We learned how to register for classes, which doesn´t occur until the end of October. Which essentially means I will officially be registered to take my classes for next semester in Richmond, before I am official here in España. The class selection process is a bit different. I have to go to every department that I am interested in, and see the class offerings and times. I then have to get each class approved by the department chair. However, I am allowed to "class shop", as classes begin the 1st of August. I have three weeks to decide if I like my classes, or if I want to keep looking for better ones. I think this system and I will get along quite well.
After today´s orientation, it was time for my first museum. On Wednesday´s, there is a classical art museum, that is free. Free is a good thing. The first exhibit was a bit too graphic and violent for my taste, about the feminist movement. However, the latter paintings and sculptures were much more what I would consider classical European art. As it took nearly two hours to cover the first floor, we decided since indeed the museum was free every Wednesday that Pisacco and his generation could wait for another day.
The weather has been splendid. Tomorrow we have an excursion to the coastal region of Spain to learn about the impact that the ocean has had on Spain (I think). For now, I am off to help mi señora prepare dinner. Hasta Luego!
After today´s orientation, it was time for my first museum. On Wednesday´s, there is a classical art museum, that is free. Free is a good thing. The first exhibit was a bit too graphic and violent for my taste, about the feminist movement. However, the latter paintings and sculptures were much more what I would consider classical European art. As it took nearly two hours to cover the first floor, we decided since indeed the museum was free every Wednesday that Pisacco and his generation could wait for another day.
The weather has been splendid. Tomorrow we have an excursion to the coastal region of Spain to learn about the impact that the ocean has had on Spain (I think). For now, I am off to help mi señora prepare dinner. Hasta Luego!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)