I´m so happy here living in Spain that it´s depressing. It´s like being desperately thirsty and watching someone pour your last water bottle out onto a desert of Spanish. I´m so happy that thinking about the fact that we´re approaching the halfway point makes me really sad. I wish I could have more time here because I´m doing a lot of traveling, so most of my weekends will be spent outside of Santander. Last night was the last weekend I will spend here for a few weeks. Ah, that´s depressing.
So last week, everyone did something crazy. And guess what? I got a tattoo. It says "vuelvan," which means "come back." It´s on my right shoulder blade and it hurt like a bitch. It´s a bit awkward because it´s conjugated in a form that the Spaniards don´t typically use (it´s more of a latin american thing), so a lot of people think it´s spelled wrong at first. I´ll be glad to see some Mexicans who understand it without me having to explain it. Even though it´s a bit tiresome to explain it, I love my new tattoo. It was designed by the girl at the tattoo shop (who was really cool), so it´s nice knowing that no one else can have the same font as me. And also, even if I regret it later on (because who doesn´t) it will still be a cool story to say "Yes, this is the tattoo I got when I was a crazy college student living in Spain." You´re only young and stupid once. Well, you´re only young once.
Two other girls on the trip got tattoos, and a couple others got piercings, and I won´t tell you where. I think it was just a bucket list kind of thing, because once one person thought of the idea to get a tattoo, suddenly a whole group of us wanted something done. It was a bit disappointing because my camera was dead and I didn´t get any pictures of my tattoo actually being done, but then I thought, "No, I don´t have pictures of my tattoo, but I have the tattoo." The tattoo is a picture in and of itself.
Anyway, I guess I´m rambling again. I just wanted to update and talk about my new tattoo and my last weekend in Santander, because I´m going to Dublin next weekend, then Salamanca the next weekend, and then Paris. And then i only have a weekend or two more before I go to Italy and then after that it´s Madrid and then after THAT it´s Wilmington!!! How the time flies. Okay, until next time vosotros.
"El mundo es un libro, y ellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina."
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
I´ve been here for a month!
Okay, more than a month. I got here on the fifth of Febrero, and I think today is the 8th, but it might be the 9th. I´m really not sure. The days run together when you have as much fun as I have.
A ver, what was my last update? It had to have been about a 2 weeks ago, because I went to the Guggenheim a couple Saturdays and I know I haven´t written about it yet.
So Saturday (not last saturday, Saturday the 27th) we went to Bilbao. We met outside the nautical engineering school, which is right by the bay about a 15 minute walk from my piso (new vocab word-piso=apartment, or "flat" if you want to sound british). We took an hourish bus ride to the industrial (aka ugly) city of Bilbao. We had a tour of the Basque museum, which was unbelievably boring. Our tour guide didn´t do a fantastic job. She stopped at every piece and talked in Spanish (at least she wasn´t speaking in Basque...) for about 15 or 20 minutes. That amount of talking is difficult to follow in any language. After the Basque museum, we were given about an hour and a half to eat or shop or walk around and explore the city. It was a rainy day and I was feeling sick, so I didn´t take advantage of exploring like I probably should have, but that´s alright.
After our descanso, we went to see the Guggenheim, which was really cool. There were 3 floors. The first was all the modern art, which bores me. The second was an exhibit called "Haunted," which was my favorite simply because I enjoy all the really dark and abnormal stuff. Then the third floor was more boring classic works, all from the WWI era.
Afterward, we dragged our tired selves home to Santander.
That week we started our second set of classes. Monday was our first day: Grammar began at 10am. Our class was separated once again into the yellow and orange groups. My class is taught by a man named Manolo (I hope that´s how you spell it...), who reminds me a lot of Gonzalo, whom I´ve mentioned in previous entries. If you´re just now joining me and have no idea who Gonzalo is, or if you just don´t remember, I´ll tell you that he´s the craziest teacher I´ve ever had. He´s extremely hands on and clearly believes that the stranger the method of teaching, the easier it is to remember concepts. Manolo clearly got his teaching certification from the same school. When I say crazy, I mean things like throwing pieces of chalk at words written on the board when he refers to them, singing and playing air guitar, and then making us act out his random stories and then write them down to practice grammar. This guy is COOL. After grammar, we have a short break and then History.
I don´t think I should tell you much about my history class, in the best interest of my blood pressure. My professor is just about THE most condescending fuck I´ve ever met. And the fact that my sickness had progressed and rendered me voiceless made me even more frustrated. He clearly mistook my lack of response for lack of understanding. Let me explain. He was telling us the structure of the class, and said "No hay examen." He repeated himself 3 or 4 times, then said (in spanish), "You all aren´t responding the way I thought you would," (so clearly that means we didn´t catch a word of "no hay examen," even though a retarded english speaking chimp would understand that) so this douchebag wrote "No exam" on the board IN ENGLISH. IN ENGISH, PEOPLE. How condescending is that? And then he had us read a paragraph from the text book, and then asked "¿Quien quiere resumir?" Now, I respect that for those of you who don´t understand spanish, this would be hard, and I don´t mean to condescend. But these are words we learned within the first few weeks of Spanish 1 back when I was 14 years old. I know what "¿Quién quiere resumir?" means, I just can´t respond because I don´t have a voice. Then this asshole says, a LOT slower, "¿Quién...who...quiere...who wants...resumir...to sum up? Who wants to sum up?" He´s done this several times. I consider myself a very laid back person. It takes a lot to anger me. The one thing guaranteed to get under my skin, however, is to talk to me like I´m stupid. There´s nothing I hate more. But, I´m a rational human being, so anything that upsets me, I will try to take something away from. So here is today´s travel tip:
Travel Tip #11:
When you´re learning a new language, be patient. You won´t get it right away. Listen to the native speakers around you, and when you hear a new phrase, ask about it. Then remember it. Then try to use it yourself organically in another conversation with another person. And when you´re with a group of people trying to learn a new language, you need to be 10 times more patient. Everyone is at a different level. Remember that yes, there are people who understand less than you do, but there are also people who understand more.
And because it´s been so long since my last update, I´ll throw in another:
Travel Tip #12:
It´s probably a good idea to NOT storm out of your class, even if your professor condescends to translate the word "communidad" for you. (But seriously, communidad?! COMMUNIDAD?!?? Who couldn´t possibly figure that out??)
Alright, enough ranting. So those are our Mondays and Wednesdays. We´re out of class by 1:45 and home para la comida at 2:15, give or take. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, we go to class at 10 for Literatura, with our adorable professor Carmen. She´s petite, dresses really well, has the cutest little haircut, and also has that sexy librarian glasses thing going on. I have to say that class with her was a bit of a wake up call for me. Grammar is my thing and I´ve been taking Spanish grammar classes for 7 years, so that was no problem. Then I had Mr. History Professor talk to me like I was a child for 2 hours, so when I took a real class in Spanish, I was surprised at how difficult it was. There isn´t a big difference between a Spanish Grammar class taught in english and one taught in Spanish, but there is a chasm of difference between a Grammar class taught in Spanish and one about a new subject. I can follow mostly what Carmen says, but she has to speak con mucho espácio, which means really slowly. It´s definitely a challenge, but the good kind of challenge. Not the euphemistic kind of challange that people say about things that they know they will fail at.
After Literature, we have Art. Our professor is very hands off and laid back, which is to say "kinda boring," but I enjoy it none the less. Mostly because it´s basically a review of History, because he´s beginning with cave art in Altamira. Our homework for tonight was to draw a map of the mediterranean and all the bordering countries. Yeah. Our homework for the first night of grammar was to "go out and start a conversation with a stranger." Really cool. For the second night it was "to be happy," and for our next class it´s "to have fun." Vive España.
We don´t usually have class on Fridays, and this past weekend we had Monday off. We have 3 long weekends during our semester to allow time for travel. This weekend a group of us decided to go to Barcelona. There were 10 of us going, which I think was the largest group going anywhere. I know a group of 5 or 6 went to Rome and a small group traveled around northern Spain. But anyway, back to me. Our flight was at 12 something, and because none of us really knew how to get to the airport, we decided to meet at 10am so we could all figure it out together. We met, walked to the bus station, and took a bus to the airport. No problems thus far. The santander airport is the smallest thing I´ve ever seen. People who have seen ILM-I tell you, SDN is smaller. Yes, somehow, the Santander airport is that small. So we had no problems finding the gate. Mostly because there was only one gate. We got in line really early because we´ve heard horror stories about how RyanAir overbooks flights and if you aren´t in line and don´t get on the flight, they say "tough luck." So you better believe we were among the first 30 people in line. The flight wasn´t the worst thing ever, but I´ll tell you this: RyanAir gives a whole new meaning to "commercial flights." Because they´re so cheap, they have commercials like you wouldn´t believe. I mean, how much stuff can you sell on a flight? Anyway, we landed and found a taxi AND the hostel without problems. So far, so good.
The hostel was really nice. There were 10 of us, but because of circumstance, we had to split up 8 in one room and 2 in another. The 8 of us were together in a 10 person room, and our 2 other roommates ended up being from Texas-fancy that. They were really nice and joined us for a lot of the sight seeing. The girl was living in Paris teaching English to French students. And her friend was simply visiting her while she had 2 weeks off, and they were traveling about Spain. We put our stuff down and found our way to the metro and from there found our way to Park Güell, where you can climb a giant mountain, where there stands a really steep plateau with a frighteningly small diameter that had a cross on top. Me and my travelmate Chris wanted to go up there and got to see an AMAZING view of Barcelona. I got some incredible pictures, including one panoramic one that stitched together quite nicely. You should go on facebook and check it out if you haven´t already. At the bottom of the hill was some amazing Gaudí architecture as well as a gift shop where I discovered some post cards. So if you´re cool, you should be expecting one in a few weeks.
That night we went on a pub crawl organized by the hostel staff. But shhh, that´s a secret, since aparently they´re illegal here in Spain (clearly not THAT illegal). We each gave them 5€ and they gave us a shot of really gross liquor and took us to a club that we couldn´t get into. Yes, I used the term "organized" very loosely. Since we couldn´t get into that club, we went to another, where we did receive one complementary drink, but the ones you had to pay for were unbelievably pricey. I´ve become spoiled in Santander, where the bars are about a 50 meter walk away from my piso, and the drinks are 1€ each. Speaking of drinking and walking to bars, I´m going to give you another (yes-another!) travel tip:
Travel Tip #13:
Do NOT drink too much while in an unfamiliar city, especially one that doesn´t speak either of the two languages you do understand. You need to be coherent for when you need to get home, because it can be difficult even when you are sober.
For my parents´ peace of mind (though I don´t even think they love me enough to read all this), I´ll include that we got home perfectly safely. Though it was difficult, we got back to the hostel around 3:30am. I stayed up and hung out with the people around the hostel until about 7am, which sounds crazy, but I admit that I love the hostel experience. It´s like a homeless shelter for successful people. You come and live with a bunch of strangers and all you have in common is that you need a place to stay. Really-you find all kinds of different people, from all different walks of life. I met a really interesting Argentinian who worked the front desk. We talked for a long while about his visits to the US and he showed me a lot of the photos he took. He was really into photography. The next night I talked with a Welsh guy (I think he was Welsh...maybe I should just say British) who was traveling around Europe for 3 weeks by himself. It´s amazing some people have the balls to do that. It was fun to impress him with my Spanish. My roommate and I (from the hostel...the girl who taught english in paris, remember?) had fun speaking to him in our respective second languages. Then we also made friends with an Australian guy...crap, I forget his name...oh well, not important. And also a group of 3 Canadians. It´s always an amazing time because I always learn something new. It´s like how grown ups always used to say that the more you learn, the more you realize how little you know. There´s an entire world of infinite wisdom out there, and even though I know that I could never conquer it, I´ll be damned if I don´t try.
The second day, despite going to bed at 7am, I woke up around 10am and we were out of the hostel by 11:30 to sight see. We went and saw first Las Ramblas, which is a mostly pedestrian street a mile long, with famously good shopping and food.
Side note-This is the point when my iPod got stolen. We were on our way there on the metro, and it was really crowded. I was carrying a purse with a flap that had a latch on it, and of course it was closed and latched. When we got off the metro, I noticed it was open. Shucks. I checked inside and what do I find? Not an iPod, that´s what. I was about 98% sure I had brought it with me, but I decided to not give up hope until we returned to the hostel and made sure I hadn´t left it there. But when we got back that day, it was nowhere to be found.
However, we chose the worst restaurant ever for lunch. I´m not a huge fan of dining experiences here in Spain, but sometimes you find yourself in situations where you have to eat outside the home, like when you´re all the way across the country from your madre. Anyway, after that, we didn´t really walk around Las Ramblas much, but instead went to see Catedral de Barcelona. Keep this in mind before I explain my thoughts on cathedrals: Catedral de Barcelona is considered one of the lesser impressive ones in Europe. Again, Pictures are up on facebook for you to see. I find it the most humbling experience to see these cathedrals. It´s an entire work of art, cleverly disguised as a building. Everywhere you look, every inch is art. It´s absolutely unfathomable.
After Catedral, we went to go see Gaudí´s La Sagrada Família, which is another cathedral in Barcelona. This church, along with the rest of Gaudí´s work, is like something out of a dream. The designs that man came up with just blow my mind. The stain glass windows were so perfectly placed that the sun shone through them at amazing angles and created the illusion of dozens of colored lights lighting up the space, but no-simply the sun shining through. The lift to the roof was closed, which was depressing, but I´m still glad I got to see the church.
After that, we went to the McDonald´s across the street. Yes, you read that correctly. It was kind of a novelty, I suppose.
After eating, we dragged our exhausted bodies not back to the hostel, but to Las Ramblas yet again. At this point it was starting to get dark, so we made our way to CarreFour, which is a supermarket chain here in Spain (I made a rhyme). We bought a few boxes of wine to share between the 6 or 7 of us (A few of us didn´t come or went elsewhere). Here in Spain, a box of wine (55 cents) costs less than a bottle of water (70 cents). And in the states, they give you 750 mL, where as here en España, they give you an entire liter. Yeap. That´s how us Spaniards do it.
Las Ramblas was PACKED for Carnaval. It was really, really fun. Lots of people dressed up, street vendors (I had a good conversation with one-in spanish!-who was selling his paintings), and living statues. We also got to see a few of the cars drive past who were preparing for the parade. After a long time of walking around, we decided to go find the parade, which ended up being only a street or two over. This was also crazy, I think that neither my describing it nor my photos on FB could do it justice. Lots of costumes, loud music, and crazy dancing.
Around 10:30, we went back to the hostel. I decided to stay in, since I´d gotten about 8 hours of sleep in the past 2 days. It was fun all the same; hanging out with the hostel staff and all the extranjeros (foreigners). Even though it was a "take it easy" night for me, I still went to bed around 2am. It´s strange that 2am is going to bed "early" for me now.
Well, maybe not that strange.
The next morning we were up around 8:30 to get an early start on the day. A cup of café con leche and we were out the door. We went to the Picasso museum, which was free on Sundays. It was interesting and I learned a lot about Picasso that I didn´t know before. Although, it would be strange if I learned a lot about Picasso that I did know before...anyway, that was fun. We met the American boy who was standing in line behind us. I think he was from Florida..or something. He was going to school in France, and now he´s traveling around and working on farms. Sounds like something my boyfriend should do so that we can be together on my international travels...hmm...
After the Picasso musuem, we walked around quite a bit, just looking at the very european-looking streets and shopping (there´s a large amount of hand-made jewelry in Barcelona for some reason). Eventually, we made our way to the beach, where we ate at a great seafood place. I had my first paella experience, which was heavenly. Then we walked down to the shore, where it was so crowded with tons of people because it was such a beautiful day. We walked around for a while, got hit on by strange spanish men, and I even got to stick my feet in the water!! So now I can say I have touched the Mediterranean.
After the beach, we walked past the Olympic Park and then ate a Kabob (this is like the Spanish equivalent of Cook Out) and then some Helado (the spanish word for Gelato, Italian ice cream). Lots of Spanish comida. After that we mosied back to our hostel, where we met up with the rest of the group. A few of us went out to purchase pasta and makings for our Jersey Shore dinner. We call it Jersey Shore dinner because, aparently (I can´t say for sure, because I´ve never watched the Jersey Shore), the group of 18-24 year olds go out and do crazy things all weekend, but always come home to make Sunday dinner at the end of their wild weekend. The same went for us, claro. So we made a makeshift pasta in the hostel kitchen, all of us together. I don´t know if any of us went out, but a lot of us decided to stay in. I know it sounds lame to just hang around the hostel, but it was fun either way. It goes back to what I said about meeting people in hostels, there´s never a dull moment.
The next day we had to get ourselves up bright an early to pack and get ready to be picked up by taxis at 8:30 and be taken to the airport. We said goodbye to our beloved hostel staff and were on our way.
So what did I think of Barcelona? I liked it...for a weekend. Of course, it was wild and I had an amazing weekend. But my conclusion is, I would never want to live there. It´s too big, and I´m little and easily intimidated. Also, there are wayyyy too many english speakers there. And also, I´m not a fan of Catalán. It looks really similar to Spanish, so you try to read it, and you´re four or five words in when you think to yourself, "why am I not understanding any of this?" And then you realize, oh, that´s because it´s not spanish. I began to realize how attached I´ve gotten to my lovely city of Santander when I actively missed it on Saturday. When I was really tired, all I wanted to do was return to my bed. And I never felt more at home than when we arrived back in Santander on Monday morning.
Point is, I´m glad to be back. Sorry I haven´t updated in a while. I won´t have much to update for a week or so, but there is a lot coming up in the next month. This weekend, I stay in Santander (yay!). Next weekend, a group of us are going to Dublin for St. Patrick´s day, which I´m told is going to be crazy. The weekend after that, we take a class trip (all of us from carolina del norte) to Salamanca. And THEN after that, a group of us go to Paris. So I´ll try and keep updating at least once a week, and definitely be sure to look for pictures.
Tis all for now! (I say that like I haven´t been writing for 2 hours...)
"El mundo es un libro y ellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina."
A ver, what was my last update? It had to have been about a 2 weeks ago, because I went to the Guggenheim a couple Saturdays and I know I haven´t written about it yet.
So Saturday (not last saturday, Saturday the 27th) we went to Bilbao. We met outside the nautical engineering school, which is right by the bay about a 15 minute walk from my piso (new vocab word-piso=apartment, or "flat" if you want to sound british). We took an hourish bus ride to the industrial (aka ugly) city of Bilbao. We had a tour of the Basque museum, which was unbelievably boring. Our tour guide didn´t do a fantastic job. She stopped at every piece and talked in Spanish (at least she wasn´t speaking in Basque...) for about 15 or 20 minutes. That amount of talking is difficult to follow in any language. After the Basque museum, we were given about an hour and a half to eat or shop or walk around and explore the city. It was a rainy day and I was feeling sick, so I didn´t take advantage of exploring like I probably should have, but that´s alright.
After our descanso, we went to see the Guggenheim, which was really cool. There were 3 floors. The first was all the modern art, which bores me. The second was an exhibit called "Haunted," which was my favorite simply because I enjoy all the really dark and abnormal stuff. Then the third floor was more boring classic works, all from the WWI era.
Afterward, we dragged our tired selves home to Santander.
That week we started our second set of classes. Monday was our first day: Grammar began at 10am. Our class was separated once again into the yellow and orange groups. My class is taught by a man named Manolo (I hope that´s how you spell it...), who reminds me a lot of Gonzalo, whom I´ve mentioned in previous entries. If you´re just now joining me and have no idea who Gonzalo is, or if you just don´t remember, I´ll tell you that he´s the craziest teacher I´ve ever had. He´s extremely hands on and clearly believes that the stranger the method of teaching, the easier it is to remember concepts. Manolo clearly got his teaching certification from the same school. When I say crazy, I mean things like throwing pieces of chalk at words written on the board when he refers to them, singing and playing air guitar, and then making us act out his random stories and then write them down to practice grammar. This guy is COOL. After grammar, we have a short break and then History.
I don´t think I should tell you much about my history class, in the best interest of my blood pressure. My professor is just about THE most condescending fuck I´ve ever met. And the fact that my sickness had progressed and rendered me voiceless made me even more frustrated. He clearly mistook my lack of response for lack of understanding. Let me explain. He was telling us the structure of the class, and said "No hay examen." He repeated himself 3 or 4 times, then said (in spanish), "You all aren´t responding the way I thought you would," (so clearly that means we didn´t catch a word of "no hay examen," even though a retarded english speaking chimp would understand that) so this douchebag wrote "No exam" on the board IN ENGLISH. IN ENGISH, PEOPLE. How condescending is that? And then he had us read a paragraph from the text book, and then asked "¿Quien quiere resumir?" Now, I respect that for those of you who don´t understand spanish, this would be hard, and I don´t mean to condescend. But these are words we learned within the first few weeks of Spanish 1 back when I was 14 years old. I know what "¿Quién quiere resumir?" means, I just can´t respond because I don´t have a voice. Then this asshole says, a LOT slower, "¿Quién...who...quiere...who wants...resumir...to sum up? Who wants to sum up?" He´s done this several times. I consider myself a very laid back person. It takes a lot to anger me. The one thing guaranteed to get under my skin, however, is to talk to me like I´m stupid. There´s nothing I hate more. But, I´m a rational human being, so anything that upsets me, I will try to take something away from. So here is today´s travel tip:
Travel Tip #11:
When you´re learning a new language, be patient. You won´t get it right away. Listen to the native speakers around you, and when you hear a new phrase, ask about it. Then remember it. Then try to use it yourself organically in another conversation with another person. And when you´re with a group of people trying to learn a new language, you need to be 10 times more patient. Everyone is at a different level. Remember that yes, there are people who understand less than you do, but there are also people who understand more.
And because it´s been so long since my last update, I´ll throw in another:
Travel Tip #12:
It´s probably a good idea to NOT storm out of your class, even if your professor condescends to translate the word "communidad" for you. (But seriously, communidad?! COMMUNIDAD?!?? Who couldn´t possibly figure that out??)
Alright, enough ranting. So those are our Mondays and Wednesdays. We´re out of class by 1:45 and home para la comida at 2:15, give or take. On Tuesdays and Thursdays, we go to class at 10 for Literatura, with our adorable professor Carmen. She´s petite, dresses really well, has the cutest little haircut, and also has that sexy librarian glasses thing going on. I have to say that class with her was a bit of a wake up call for me. Grammar is my thing and I´ve been taking Spanish grammar classes for 7 years, so that was no problem. Then I had Mr. History Professor talk to me like I was a child for 2 hours, so when I took a real class in Spanish, I was surprised at how difficult it was. There isn´t a big difference between a Spanish Grammar class taught in english and one taught in Spanish, but there is a chasm of difference between a Grammar class taught in Spanish and one about a new subject. I can follow mostly what Carmen says, but she has to speak con mucho espácio, which means really slowly. It´s definitely a challenge, but the good kind of challenge. Not the euphemistic kind of challange that people say about things that they know they will fail at.
After Literature, we have Art. Our professor is very hands off and laid back, which is to say "kinda boring," but I enjoy it none the less. Mostly because it´s basically a review of History, because he´s beginning with cave art in Altamira. Our homework for tonight was to draw a map of the mediterranean and all the bordering countries. Yeah. Our homework for the first night of grammar was to "go out and start a conversation with a stranger." Really cool. For the second night it was "to be happy," and for our next class it´s "to have fun." Vive España.
We don´t usually have class on Fridays, and this past weekend we had Monday off. We have 3 long weekends during our semester to allow time for travel. This weekend a group of us decided to go to Barcelona. There were 10 of us going, which I think was the largest group going anywhere. I know a group of 5 or 6 went to Rome and a small group traveled around northern Spain. But anyway, back to me. Our flight was at 12 something, and because none of us really knew how to get to the airport, we decided to meet at 10am so we could all figure it out together. We met, walked to the bus station, and took a bus to the airport. No problems thus far. The santander airport is the smallest thing I´ve ever seen. People who have seen ILM-I tell you, SDN is smaller. Yes, somehow, the Santander airport is that small. So we had no problems finding the gate. Mostly because there was only one gate. We got in line really early because we´ve heard horror stories about how RyanAir overbooks flights and if you aren´t in line and don´t get on the flight, they say "tough luck." So you better believe we were among the first 30 people in line. The flight wasn´t the worst thing ever, but I´ll tell you this: RyanAir gives a whole new meaning to "commercial flights." Because they´re so cheap, they have commercials like you wouldn´t believe. I mean, how much stuff can you sell on a flight? Anyway, we landed and found a taxi AND the hostel without problems. So far, so good.
The hostel was really nice. There were 10 of us, but because of circumstance, we had to split up 8 in one room and 2 in another. The 8 of us were together in a 10 person room, and our 2 other roommates ended up being from Texas-fancy that. They were really nice and joined us for a lot of the sight seeing. The girl was living in Paris teaching English to French students. And her friend was simply visiting her while she had 2 weeks off, and they were traveling about Spain. We put our stuff down and found our way to the metro and from there found our way to Park Güell, where you can climb a giant mountain, where there stands a really steep plateau with a frighteningly small diameter that had a cross on top. Me and my travelmate Chris wanted to go up there and got to see an AMAZING view of Barcelona. I got some incredible pictures, including one panoramic one that stitched together quite nicely. You should go on facebook and check it out if you haven´t already. At the bottom of the hill was some amazing Gaudí architecture as well as a gift shop where I discovered some post cards. So if you´re cool, you should be expecting one in a few weeks.
That night we went on a pub crawl organized by the hostel staff. But shhh, that´s a secret, since aparently they´re illegal here in Spain (clearly not THAT illegal). We each gave them 5€ and they gave us a shot of really gross liquor and took us to a club that we couldn´t get into. Yes, I used the term "organized" very loosely. Since we couldn´t get into that club, we went to another, where we did receive one complementary drink, but the ones you had to pay for were unbelievably pricey. I´ve become spoiled in Santander, where the bars are about a 50 meter walk away from my piso, and the drinks are 1€ each. Speaking of drinking and walking to bars, I´m going to give you another (yes-another!) travel tip:
Travel Tip #13:
Do NOT drink too much while in an unfamiliar city, especially one that doesn´t speak either of the two languages you do understand. You need to be coherent for when you need to get home, because it can be difficult even when you are sober.
For my parents´ peace of mind (though I don´t even think they love me enough to read all this), I´ll include that we got home perfectly safely. Though it was difficult, we got back to the hostel around 3:30am. I stayed up and hung out with the people around the hostel until about 7am, which sounds crazy, but I admit that I love the hostel experience. It´s like a homeless shelter for successful people. You come and live with a bunch of strangers and all you have in common is that you need a place to stay. Really-you find all kinds of different people, from all different walks of life. I met a really interesting Argentinian who worked the front desk. We talked for a long while about his visits to the US and he showed me a lot of the photos he took. He was really into photography. The next night I talked with a Welsh guy (I think he was Welsh...maybe I should just say British) who was traveling around Europe for 3 weeks by himself. It´s amazing some people have the balls to do that. It was fun to impress him with my Spanish. My roommate and I (from the hostel...the girl who taught english in paris, remember?) had fun speaking to him in our respective second languages. Then we also made friends with an Australian guy...crap, I forget his name...oh well, not important. And also a group of 3 Canadians. It´s always an amazing time because I always learn something new. It´s like how grown ups always used to say that the more you learn, the more you realize how little you know. There´s an entire world of infinite wisdom out there, and even though I know that I could never conquer it, I´ll be damned if I don´t try.
The second day, despite going to bed at 7am, I woke up around 10am and we were out of the hostel by 11:30 to sight see. We went and saw first Las Ramblas, which is a mostly pedestrian street a mile long, with famously good shopping and food.
Side note-This is the point when my iPod got stolen. We were on our way there on the metro, and it was really crowded. I was carrying a purse with a flap that had a latch on it, and of course it was closed and latched. When we got off the metro, I noticed it was open. Shucks. I checked inside and what do I find? Not an iPod, that´s what. I was about 98% sure I had brought it with me, but I decided to not give up hope until we returned to the hostel and made sure I hadn´t left it there. But when we got back that day, it was nowhere to be found.
However, we chose the worst restaurant ever for lunch. I´m not a huge fan of dining experiences here in Spain, but sometimes you find yourself in situations where you have to eat outside the home, like when you´re all the way across the country from your madre. Anyway, after that, we didn´t really walk around Las Ramblas much, but instead went to see Catedral de Barcelona. Keep this in mind before I explain my thoughts on cathedrals: Catedral de Barcelona is considered one of the lesser impressive ones in Europe. Again, Pictures are up on facebook for you to see. I find it the most humbling experience to see these cathedrals. It´s an entire work of art, cleverly disguised as a building. Everywhere you look, every inch is art. It´s absolutely unfathomable.
After Catedral, we went to go see Gaudí´s La Sagrada Família, which is another cathedral in Barcelona. This church, along with the rest of Gaudí´s work, is like something out of a dream. The designs that man came up with just blow my mind. The stain glass windows were so perfectly placed that the sun shone through them at amazing angles and created the illusion of dozens of colored lights lighting up the space, but no-simply the sun shining through. The lift to the roof was closed, which was depressing, but I´m still glad I got to see the church.
After that, we went to the McDonald´s across the street. Yes, you read that correctly. It was kind of a novelty, I suppose.
After eating, we dragged our exhausted bodies not back to the hostel, but to Las Ramblas yet again. At this point it was starting to get dark, so we made our way to CarreFour, which is a supermarket chain here in Spain (I made a rhyme). We bought a few boxes of wine to share between the 6 or 7 of us (A few of us didn´t come or went elsewhere). Here in Spain, a box of wine (55 cents) costs less than a bottle of water (70 cents). And in the states, they give you 750 mL, where as here en España, they give you an entire liter. Yeap. That´s how us Spaniards do it.
Las Ramblas was PACKED for Carnaval. It was really, really fun. Lots of people dressed up, street vendors (I had a good conversation with one-in spanish!-who was selling his paintings), and living statues. We also got to see a few of the cars drive past who were preparing for the parade. After a long time of walking around, we decided to go find the parade, which ended up being only a street or two over. This was also crazy, I think that neither my describing it nor my photos on FB could do it justice. Lots of costumes, loud music, and crazy dancing.
Around 10:30, we went back to the hostel. I decided to stay in, since I´d gotten about 8 hours of sleep in the past 2 days. It was fun all the same; hanging out with the hostel staff and all the extranjeros (foreigners). Even though it was a "take it easy" night for me, I still went to bed around 2am. It´s strange that 2am is going to bed "early" for me now.
Well, maybe not that strange.
The next morning we were up around 8:30 to get an early start on the day. A cup of café con leche and we were out the door. We went to the Picasso museum, which was free on Sundays. It was interesting and I learned a lot about Picasso that I didn´t know before. Although, it would be strange if I learned a lot about Picasso that I did know before...anyway, that was fun. We met the American boy who was standing in line behind us. I think he was from Florida..or something. He was going to school in France, and now he´s traveling around and working on farms. Sounds like something my boyfriend should do so that we can be together on my international travels...hmm...
After the Picasso musuem, we walked around quite a bit, just looking at the very european-looking streets and shopping (there´s a large amount of hand-made jewelry in Barcelona for some reason). Eventually, we made our way to the beach, where we ate at a great seafood place. I had my first paella experience, which was heavenly. Then we walked down to the shore, where it was so crowded with tons of people because it was such a beautiful day. We walked around for a while, got hit on by strange spanish men, and I even got to stick my feet in the water!! So now I can say I have touched the Mediterranean.
After the beach, we walked past the Olympic Park and then ate a Kabob (this is like the Spanish equivalent of Cook Out) and then some Helado (the spanish word for Gelato, Italian ice cream). Lots of Spanish comida. After that we mosied back to our hostel, where we met up with the rest of the group. A few of us went out to purchase pasta and makings for our Jersey Shore dinner. We call it Jersey Shore dinner because, aparently (I can´t say for sure, because I´ve never watched the Jersey Shore), the group of 18-24 year olds go out and do crazy things all weekend, but always come home to make Sunday dinner at the end of their wild weekend. The same went for us, claro. So we made a makeshift pasta in the hostel kitchen, all of us together. I don´t know if any of us went out, but a lot of us decided to stay in. I know it sounds lame to just hang around the hostel, but it was fun either way. It goes back to what I said about meeting people in hostels, there´s never a dull moment.
The next day we had to get ourselves up bright an early to pack and get ready to be picked up by taxis at 8:30 and be taken to the airport. We said goodbye to our beloved hostel staff and were on our way.
So what did I think of Barcelona? I liked it...for a weekend. Of course, it was wild and I had an amazing weekend. But my conclusion is, I would never want to live there. It´s too big, and I´m little and easily intimidated. Also, there are wayyyy too many english speakers there. And also, I´m not a fan of Catalán. It looks really similar to Spanish, so you try to read it, and you´re four or five words in when you think to yourself, "why am I not understanding any of this?" And then you realize, oh, that´s because it´s not spanish. I began to realize how attached I´ve gotten to my lovely city of Santander when I actively missed it on Saturday. When I was really tired, all I wanted to do was return to my bed. And I never felt more at home than when we arrived back in Santander on Monday morning.
Point is, I´m glad to be back. Sorry I haven´t updated in a while. I won´t have much to update for a week or so, but there is a lot coming up in the next month. This weekend, I stay in Santander (yay!). Next weekend, a group of us are going to Dublin for St. Patrick´s day, which I´m told is going to be crazy. The weekend after that, we take a class trip (all of us from carolina del norte) to Salamanca. And THEN after that, a group of us go to Paris. So I´ll try and keep updating at least once a week, and definitely be sure to look for pictures.
Tis all for now! (I say that like I haven´t been writing for 2 hours...)
"El mundo es un libro y ellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina."
Friday, February 25, 2011
Day 19
Hey everyone, I thought I should update real quick before I have to leave for class in about 15 minutes. This week has been crazy as classes have gotten intense and I've gotten sicker. This is not one of those relationships you want to be positive. I'm hanging in there, because I refuse to miss class. We have our exams today and I want to be ready.
My Spanish mother and I have had a few special bonding moments. At lunch she asked me what I thought about Santander so far, and I got the chance to talk a lot in Spanish to her, which is cool, because it's usually a lot of "si's" and "como?s" on my end (and if you're spanishly retarded, "si" means "yes" and "como?" means "what?"). And Monday night we watched "La República," which is a telenovela about the birth of the second republic in Madrid cerca 1930. I've come to be really hooked on it (I think I've mentioned it before, but not by name) since watching it once before with my señora, and now I'm dying to know what happens. And also my señora and I bond over talking about how gorgeous Alejo Sauras is. Photo here: http://www.rtve.es/television/components/noticia/popup/7/3/3/3/foto383337_957202.shtml (You'll have to copy and paste)
What did I tell you? Probably the most beautiful human being I've ever laid eyes on.
Anyway, Wednesday night, I met some friends after siesta to go to the library's computer lab to study and finalize plans. When I got home it was about dinner time, and mi señora was making tortilla española, which is God's gift to the people. That was another bonding experience between me and mi señora. I got to talk in Spanish and tell her how spaniards know what real tortillas are, and she taught me how to make them. Then I immediately went to sleep. Wine and a full tummy will do that to you.
Last Saturday I woke up sick, as I said before. It was hard for me to explain to my señora that I was sick, not humgover. That's a difficult conversation to have in Spanish. But I think seeing that my cough lasted far into this week (obviously, as it's Friday) convinced her that it wasn't an issue of drinking too much. I can tell we're growing closer because she's becoming more and more like a real mother to me. She makes sure I'm wearing sufficient clothes before I leave the apartment, and even when I'm hanging around the house, she tells me to put a sweater on to make sure I'm warm enough. And also she's been bugging me about 8,000 times a day since Monday to go to the pharmacy. I didn't want to go partly because I knew it would be hard to ask for medicine and describe my symptoms in Spanish, but also because I don't even like going to the doctor when I'm at home. I would really rather just ignore it until it goes away. That's more my style. But I finally went to la farmacia today, and it turned out to be much more painless than I anticipated. The pharmacy tech understood what I asked her, then gave me some cough drops with DXM in them (so I shouldn't take too many before class...) and I paid for them and left. Easy.
I'm having a really hard time coming up with a good travel tip for today, because nothing comedically horrible has happened to me in the last week. Hopefully you've prepared yourselves for dissapointment, because this one's going to be lame:
Travel Tip#10:
When you move to a different country and begin speaking a new language, the very first thing you learn is the curse words. The second thing is medical terminology.
So that's it. Did I mention I'm going to Bilbao tomorrow? The whole day. Even though it's only us Americans going (bor-ing), I'm still excited. I mean, who wouldn't be? Expect pictures very soon.
Ps before I do my closing statement, I have to admit one thing: I'm fairly certain I've been doing it wrong. It made sense, but I think there's a better way. This is what it will be from now on:
"El mundo es un libro y ellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina."
My Spanish mother and I have had a few special bonding moments. At lunch she asked me what I thought about Santander so far, and I got the chance to talk a lot in Spanish to her, which is cool, because it's usually a lot of "si's" and "como?s" on my end (and if you're spanishly retarded, "si" means "yes" and "como?" means "what?"). And Monday night we watched "La República," which is a telenovela about the birth of the second republic in Madrid cerca 1930. I've come to be really hooked on it (I think I've mentioned it before, but not by name) since watching it once before with my señora, and now I'm dying to know what happens. And also my señora and I bond over talking about how gorgeous Alejo Sauras is. Photo here: http://www.rtve.es/television/components/noticia/popup/7/3/3/3/foto383337_957202.shtml (You'll have to copy and paste)
What did I tell you? Probably the most beautiful human being I've ever laid eyes on.
Anyway, Wednesday night, I met some friends after siesta to go to the library's computer lab to study and finalize plans. When I got home it was about dinner time, and mi señora was making tortilla española, which is God's gift to the people. That was another bonding experience between me and mi señora. I got to talk in Spanish and tell her how spaniards know what real tortillas are, and she taught me how to make them. Then I immediately went to sleep. Wine and a full tummy will do that to you.
Last Saturday I woke up sick, as I said before. It was hard for me to explain to my señora that I was sick, not humgover. That's a difficult conversation to have in Spanish. But I think seeing that my cough lasted far into this week (obviously, as it's Friday) convinced her that it wasn't an issue of drinking too much. I can tell we're growing closer because she's becoming more and more like a real mother to me. She makes sure I'm wearing sufficient clothes before I leave the apartment, and even when I'm hanging around the house, she tells me to put a sweater on to make sure I'm warm enough. And also she's been bugging me about 8,000 times a day since Monday to go to the pharmacy. I didn't want to go partly because I knew it would be hard to ask for medicine and describe my symptoms in Spanish, but also because I don't even like going to the doctor when I'm at home. I would really rather just ignore it until it goes away. That's more my style. But I finally went to la farmacia today, and it turned out to be much more painless than I anticipated. The pharmacy tech understood what I asked her, then gave me some cough drops with DXM in them (so I shouldn't take too many before class...) and I paid for them and left. Easy.
I'm having a really hard time coming up with a good travel tip for today, because nothing comedically horrible has happened to me in the last week. Hopefully you've prepared yourselves for dissapointment, because this one's going to be lame:
Travel Tip#10:
When you move to a different country and begin speaking a new language, the very first thing you learn is the curse words. The second thing is medical terminology.
So that's it. Did I mention I'm going to Bilbao tomorrow? The whole day. Even though it's only us Americans going (bor-ing), I'm still excited. I mean, who wouldn't be? Expect pictures very soon.
Ps before I do my closing statement, I have to admit one thing: I'm fairly certain I've been doing it wrong. It made sense, but I think there's a better way. This is what it will be from now on:
"El mundo es un libro y ellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina."
Sunday, February 20, 2011
Day 15
Hello everyone. I'm updating because I feel like I should, but I really don't have much to tell you. On my end, I had a great weekend. I went out Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night and it was all really eventful and fun for me, but how many times can you tell the same "I went out, drank a lot, and talked to Europeans all night" story before it gets boring? I mean, I doubt it'll ever get old for me over my three months, but I'm sure you don't want to hear about it everytime.
(Side note- my señora is watching requiem for a dream in the other room. What a trip.)
So thursday night was the arsenal versus Barcelona game. I went home early because of a stomach ache, (Travel Tip #9: Splitting an entire pitcher of sangria with a couple friends, eating a full dinner in less than 10 minutes because you were supposed to meet your friends 10 minutes ago, and then running to a bar where you'll watch a game and drink another glass of wine will probably result in a stomach ache. I mean I'm not a doctor, so don't quote me on that, but yeah.) so I don't know the result of the game, but I think arsenal won. I suppose I'm on Barcelona's side, because Spain is a bit more relevant to my life than England. So anyway, yeah I went home really early, around 10:30, and slept. It was a school night anyway.
Friday night ended relatively early as well. And I'll emphasize once more that "early" is a relative term, because I went home at like 3:30ish. I also lost my phone, and another friend of mine lost her wallet. Probably, over all, one of the wilder nights we've had, which is saying something.
Saturday night started out slow. I was feeling a little bit sick, probably as a result of hanging out with everyone the night before. Just being in a different country meant that everyone got sick immediately, but I managed to remain healthy until I woke up Saturday morning. Shucks. And I'd been doing so well, too.
I happened to have a pen with me, so my friends and I decided to "keep score," as they say. The spaniards found it hilarious. Probably because they don't drink enough to have to count. But before i forget, I met one!!! It was awesome. I said before that I hadn't really met many spaniards. Yes, I'm surrounded by them, but it's hard to find and befriend the younger people. Especially because it's as though the ERASMUS have taken over. But anyway, I don't even really know if he counts, because he's spanish, but his father is british, so when he speaks English, he has an English accent. I mean, he's more a nomad than anything else, having lived in england, Spain, the united states, and, most recently, morocco (and probably more that I don't know about). People like this fascinate me, because I'd like to fancy myself a worldly and cultured person, but it's simply not true. The fact that I spent about a month traveling southern Europe, and now am living in Spain for three months, is nothing next to him when you consider that this is the only traveling I've done. Anyway, ERASMUS are cool, but it's nice to finally meet someone from Spain.
Alright, well I'm off to study. I have a test tomorrow. I know, it's a pain. School getting in the way of me living in Spain...
"El mundo es un libro, y aquellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina."
(Side note- my señora is watching requiem for a dream in the other room. What a trip.)
So thursday night was the arsenal versus Barcelona game. I went home early because of a stomach ache, (Travel Tip #9: Splitting an entire pitcher of sangria with a couple friends, eating a full dinner in less than 10 minutes because you were supposed to meet your friends 10 minutes ago, and then running to a bar where you'll watch a game and drink another glass of wine will probably result in a stomach ache. I mean I'm not a doctor, so don't quote me on that, but yeah.) so I don't know the result of the game, but I think arsenal won. I suppose I'm on Barcelona's side, because Spain is a bit more relevant to my life than England. So anyway, yeah I went home really early, around 10:30, and slept. It was a school night anyway.
Friday night ended relatively early as well. And I'll emphasize once more that "early" is a relative term, because I went home at like 3:30ish. I also lost my phone, and another friend of mine lost her wallet. Probably, over all, one of the wilder nights we've had, which is saying something.
Saturday night started out slow. I was feeling a little bit sick, probably as a result of hanging out with everyone the night before. Just being in a different country meant that everyone got sick immediately, but I managed to remain healthy until I woke up Saturday morning. Shucks. And I'd been doing so well, too.
I happened to have a pen with me, so my friends and I decided to "keep score," as they say. The spaniards found it hilarious. Probably because they don't drink enough to have to count. But before i forget, I met one!!! It was awesome. I said before that I hadn't really met many spaniards. Yes, I'm surrounded by them, but it's hard to find and befriend the younger people. Especially because it's as though the ERASMUS have taken over. But anyway, I don't even really know if he counts, because he's spanish, but his father is british, so when he speaks English, he has an English accent. I mean, he's more a nomad than anything else, having lived in england, Spain, the united states, and, most recently, morocco (and probably more that I don't know about). People like this fascinate me, because I'd like to fancy myself a worldly and cultured person, but it's simply not true. The fact that I spent about a month traveling southern Europe, and now am living in Spain for three months, is nothing next to him when you consider that this is the only traveling I've done. Anyway, ERASMUS are cool, but it's nice to finally meet someone from Spain.
Alright, well I'm off to study. I have a test tomorrow. I know, it's a pain. School getting in the way of me living in Spain...
"El mundo es un libro, y aquellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina."
Thursday, February 17, 2011
Day 13, I think.
I'm sorry, my dearest readers. Please accept my sincerest apologies for not having written. I know it must have been heart-breakingly difficult to not read the paragraphs and paragraphs of dumb shit I have to say. To make it up to you, you all will receive not one, but THREE travel tips, aiight? Sound good? Okay, let's get started:
Travel Tip #6:
Don't decide that "to stop cursing" is your news years resolution the same year you leave the country to learn a new language.
So when was the last time I wrote? Saturday? Sunday, perhaps? I don't even know. But one significant event has taken place since the weekend: classes have officially started. (Side note real quick- I wish you all could appreciate how hard it is for me to write in English right now. Everything comes to me in Spanish first, so I have to think about every sentence and every word twice. And that's twice as much thinking.) Our first day of classes was Monday. For those of you just now joining us, our group of united states-ians was split up into two groups, according to level. They, of course, won't tell us which is the smart level, but I have the feeling they mixed us up. That is to say, the "smart" students aren't all in one class, and the "stupid" kids aren't in the other class. My hermana asked me if I was in the smart class, and I responded with, "Claro que si," which translates loosely to, "Duhhh."
So here is the structure of our arduous, hectic, demanding, strenuous, and a bunch of other sarcastically used words meaning "difficult" days: we arrive at school at 9:30am for our first class, which for my group is conversation, taught by Dr. Chandler (a teacher at UNCW) and our student teacher intern lady (yes that is her official job title), Sara. Then at 11:00, we take a 30 minute break. At 11:30, we return to class for advanced grammar, taught by dr. Gonzalo, who is a teacher here at UNICAN. The other group's schedule is backwards; they have grammar first and then conversation practice. At 1pm, we are done with classes for the day. We go home and eat lunch with our families, usually take a siesta, and then are free to do with the rest of our day as we please. Yes. Life here is rough.
Now, for my parents, I'll emphasize my pursuits inside the classroom. I am extremely relieved to be taking classes again. I hate to admit how boring of a person I fundamentally am, but I absolutely crave structure. I used to resent the fact that I thrived under a set schedule, but now I embrace it. Yeah, I'm also the loser that genuinely enjoys learning grammar rules while everyone else is falling asleep. I admit it proudly.
I wondered if there might be a strategy behind having a certain group take the conversation class first, and THEN the grammar class. It seemed to me a bit counter-intuitive. Bass-ackwards, if you will. Why would you practice speaking language before studying its grammar rules? And then I thought, of course! it must be because everyone in my group already knows said rules and therefore can move on straight to practice only to return to grammar later on to simply tweak a few verb conjugations here, correct a few adjective-noun agreements there. The other students, however must need to first learn the rules before they're able to practice them. Thusly, I MUST be in the "smart" group, follow my logic?
If you hadn't already noticed, I have a problem with over-thinking things.
No, I went back and forth in my head as to why/how we were split, what the method was behind us taking a certain class before another and the other after the first. It was one of those moments when I had to remind myself that I'm in spain. In Spain. Me. Stop worrying about the strategy of learning the language, because it's really simple: ignore why the professors are doing what they're doing, because for everyone, "stupid" group or "smart" group, the objective is to practice, so effing practice. And if you're wondering, yes, that is the pep talk I give myself in the mirror every morning.
('Nother side note- I had a prettier way of saying that, but my señora just came in and distracted me, resulting in my forgetting what I was going to say. So there it is. It's not beautiful, but there it is.)
Okay, so yeah, enough tangents. Seriously, I'm actually going to talk about classes in this paragraph. Really. Here goes. Our first class of the day, conversation with dr. Chandler, is nice first thing in the morning. We've been given a daily vocab list, which is usually a nice mix of a good review (because I SO already know most of the words) and a couple new words that aren't as arbitrary as the ones we were assigned back in high school. As in, words me might actually use in our daily conversations. For instance, the Spanish equivalent of "OMG," and how to say "cool," and "pedestrian crossing," and other such useful city-folk vocabulary. After we take our daily vocabulary quizzes or, pruebitas, literally "small quiz," we usually have a lengthy, slightly structured conversation. Our conversation topics are usually very English-teacher-trying-to-win-over-his-students, like, "describe your best experience since you've been in Spain," "what has been your worst/funniest misunderstanding so far?" and "what was your most surprising moment?" Yeah, what did I tell you? I still enjoy the class a lot, because I get to practice Spanish.
During the breaks, we usually (I throw the word 'usually' around as though we've been in class longer than 4 days...) find he other class and hang with them. We need some dose of sanity to prepare for the shit show we all know is coming. Dr. Gonzalo is crazy. Listen to me, people. Crazy with a capital C. So crazy, that I considered relocating to the back of the classroom from my comfort zone of front-and-center. If you've ever taken a class with me, you know that that is saying something. Front-and-center is my home. I will give him this though, every thing he says is so insane, there's no possible way we're ever going to forget it. For instance, there is a grammatical concept called the "impersonal a," which we spaniards put between a verb and the subject if the subject is a person or group of people. A lot of times it is mistaken for the preposition "to," which happens to be spelled the same way (a). Because of this (sometimes frustrating) mistake, Gonzalo calls it-loudly, I might add-"fucking A!" Hopefully that paints some kind of picture for you as to what kind of lectures Gonzalo gives.
And I use the term "lectures" loosely because he has us talk a lot of the time. His way of teaching is doing something, like poking me in the eye (yes that actually happened), and asking me to tell him what happened. "A mi me molestas," which is NOT what it sounds like. In Spanish, "molestar" is a false cognate. It means "to bother" (not to molest; just so we're clear). So I tell him, you're bothering me. Then he asks someone else, what happened? "A ella le molestas," you're bothering her. Then he does something else, like scare the piss out of the girl sitting next to me (again, actually happened), and ask her to tell him what happened, then ask someone else, and so the "lecture" goes.
As I'm only a sophomore in college, I've only taken classes from a tiny, Sherri-sized handful of teachers in my life. I think I was stuck in my comfort zone a little bit, because I knew what the teachers wanted me to say, and how little of it I could say and still get a decent participation grade. I got used to their teaching styles and was dreading branching out. But I have to admit that I think it's been beneficial for me, because already I now understand a few concepts that have evaded me for years. It's a whole new perspective on things and who knew that might help? Which reminds me:
Travel Tip #7:
Zoning out, even for a few seconds, in a class taught in another language costs you exponentially more than zoning out in a class taught in a language you actually understand. Pay attention.
Alright, I'll stop boring you with the academic stuff. Especially because I'm hardly finished, and this is already hellas long. So, a few of us stayed after class to finalize plans to go to Dublin for St. Patrick's day, and I was a little late coming home. The next day, Tuesday, I came home at the normal time, but it seemed early to my señora because she only had the previous day, when I was late, as a point of reference. When I got home, she asked, "Why are you so early? It must be because it's my birthday." Yes, it was my Spanish mother's birthday and I didn't even know it. I am the worst American daughter there is. Luckily, I hadn't given her my homestay gift yet, so when her kids and grand kids came over to celebrate, I had gifts of my own to add to the pile. Then we ate tapas and drank-wouldn't you know it?-soda! It's funny that in the US, we drink soda like water, and here they only break it out for parties. anyways, so I experienced my first Spanish birthday. Que guay!
So I've been making a conscious effort to talk more and more, especially to my señora who is, after all, feeding and housing me. (It's only polite, ya dig?) Today over la comida, which is lunch, we talked about eating habits here versus those in Spain. She told me I was skinny, that she had expected me to be bigger before she met me, and that I needed to eat more. It's as though they're afraid I'm going to lose weight while I'm here. There's something about keeping up appearances, like, if I left after three months skinnier than when I arrived, it would mean either that they were cruel and underfed me, or that they're poor and didn't have the resources to feed me properly. One of them social stigmas, I reckon.
So, as promised:
Travel Tip #8:
Clean your plate. Literally.
So that's it, folks. I hope that wasn't too painfully long, and if you actually made it this far, hey, now I know who my true friends are. I will try not to have such sparse updates. They may be fewer and farther between than every day, as things settle down and we all develop a routine, but to be fair to you, because i love you all so much, I will try and update things, you know, as they actually happen.
"El mundo es un libro, y aquellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina."
Travel Tip #6:
Don't decide that "to stop cursing" is your news years resolution the same year you leave the country to learn a new language.
So when was the last time I wrote? Saturday? Sunday, perhaps? I don't even know. But one significant event has taken place since the weekend: classes have officially started. (Side note real quick- I wish you all could appreciate how hard it is for me to write in English right now. Everything comes to me in Spanish first, so I have to think about every sentence and every word twice. And that's twice as much thinking.) Our first day of classes was Monday. For those of you just now joining us, our group of united states-ians was split up into two groups, according to level. They, of course, won't tell us which is the smart level, but I have the feeling they mixed us up. That is to say, the "smart" students aren't all in one class, and the "stupid" kids aren't in the other class. My hermana asked me if I was in the smart class, and I responded with, "Claro que si," which translates loosely to, "Duhhh."
So here is the structure of our arduous, hectic, demanding, strenuous, and a bunch of other sarcastically used words meaning "difficult" days: we arrive at school at 9:30am for our first class, which for my group is conversation, taught by Dr. Chandler (a teacher at UNCW) and our student teacher intern lady (yes that is her official job title), Sara. Then at 11:00, we take a 30 minute break. At 11:30, we return to class for advanced grammar, taught by dr. Gonzalo, who is a teacher here at UNICAN. The other group's schedule is backwards; they have grammar first and then conversation practice. At 1pm, we are done with classes for the day. We go home and eat lunch with our families, usually take a siesta, and then are free to do with the rest of our day as we please. Yes. Life here is rough.
Now, for my parents, I'll emphasize my pursuits inside the classroom. I am extremely relieved to be taking classes again. I hate to admit how boring of a person I fundamentally am, but I absolutely crave structure. I used to resent the fact that I thrived under a set schedule, but now I embrace it. Yeah, I'm also the loser that genuinely enjoys learning grammar rules while everyone else is falling asleep. I admit it proudly.
I wondered if there might be a strategy behind having a certain group take the conversation class first, and THEN the grammar class. It seemed to me a bit counter-intuitive. Bass-ackwards, if you will. Why would you practice speaking language before studying its grammar rules? And then I thought, of course! it must be because everyone in my group already knows said rules and therefore can move on straight to practice only to return to grammar later on to simply tweak a few verb conjugations here, correct a few adjective-noun agreements there. The other students, however must need to first learn the rules before they're able to practice them. Thusly, I MUST be in the "smart" group, follow my logic?
If you hadn't already noticed, I have a problem with over-thinking things.
No, I went back and forth in my head as to why/how we were split, what the method was behind us taking a certain class before another and the other after the first. It was one of those moments when I had to remind myself that I'm in spain. In Spain. Me. Stop worrying about the strategy of learning the language, because it's really simple: ignore why the professors are doing what they're doing, because for everyone, "stupid" group or "smart" group, the objective is to practice, so effing practice. And if you're wondering, yes, that is the pep talk I give myself in the mirror every morning.
('Nother side note- I had a prettier way of saying that, but my señora just came in and distracted me, resulting in my forgetting what I was going to say. So there it is. It's not beautiful, but there it is.)
Okay, so yeah, enough tangents. Seriously, I'm actually going to talk about classes in this paragraph. Really. Here goes. Our first class of the day, conversation with dr. Chandler, is nice first thing in the morning. We've been given a daily vocab list, which is usually a nice mix of a good review (because I SO already know most of the words) and a couple new words that aren't as arbitrary as the ones we were assigned back in high school. As in, words me might actually use in our daily conversations. For instance, the Spanish equivalent of "OMG," and how to say "cool," and "pedestrian crossing," and other such useful city-folk vocabulary. After we take our daily vocabulary quizzes or, pruebitas, literally "small quiz," we usually have a lengthy, slightly structured conversation. Our conversation topics are usually very English-teacher-trying-to-win-over-his-students, like, "describe your best experience since you've been in Spain," "what has been your worst/funniest misunderstanding so far?" and "what was your most surprising moment?" Yeah, what did I tell you? I still enjoy the class a lot, because I get to practice Spanish.
During the breaks, we usually (I throw the word 'usually' around as though we've been in class longer than 4 days...) find he other class and hang with them. We need some dose of sanity to prepare for the shit show we all know is coming. Dr. Gonzalo is crazy. Listen to me, people. Crazy with a capital C. So crazy, that I considered relocating to the back of the classroom from my comfort zone of front-and-center. If you've ever taken a class with me, you know that that is saying something. Front-and-center is my home. I will give him this though, every thing he says is so insane, there's no possible way we're ever going to forget it. For instance, there is a grammatical concept called the "impersonal a," which we spaniards put between a verb and the subject if the subject is a person or group of people. A lot of times it is mistaken for the preposition "to," which happens to be spelled the same way (a). Because of this (sometimes frustrating) mistake, Gonzalo calls it-loudly, I might add-"fucking A!" Hopefully that paints some kind of picture for you as to what kind of lectures Gonzalo gives.
And I use the term "lectures" loosely because he has us talk a lot of the time. His way of teaching is doing something, like poking me in the eye (yes that actually happened), and asking me to tell him what happened. "A mi me molestas," which is NOT what it sounds like. In Spanish, "molestar" is a false cognate. It means "to bother" (not to molest; just so we're clear). So I tell him, you're bothering me. Then he asks someone else, what happened? "A ella le molestas," you're bothering her. Then he does something else, like scare the piss out of the girl sitting next to me (again, actually happened), and ask her to tell him what happened, then ask someone else, and so the "lecture" goes.
As I'm only a sophomore in college, I've only taken classes from a tiny, Sherri-sized handful of teachers in my life. I think I was stuck in my comfort zone a little bit, because I knew what the teachers wanted me to say, and how little of it I could say and still get a decent participation grade. I got used to their teaching styles and was dreading branching out. But I have to admit that I think it's been beneficial for me, because already I now understand a few concepts that have evaded me for years. It's a whole new perspective on things and who knew that might help? Which reminds me:
Travel Tip #7:
Zoning out, even for a few seconds, in a class taught in another language costs you exponentially more than zoning out in a class taught in a language you actually understand. Pay attention.
Alright, I'll stop boring you with the academic stuff. Especially because I'm hardly finished, and this is already hellas long. So, a few of us stayed after class to finalize plans to go to Dublin for St. Patrick's day, and I was a little late coming home. The next day, Tuesday, I came home at the normal time, but it seemed early to my señora because she only had the previous day, when I was late, as a point of reference. When I got home, she asked, "Why are you so early? It must be because it's my birthday." Yes, it was my Spanish mother's birthday and I didn't even know it. I am the worst American daughter there is. Luckily, I hadn't given her my homestay gift yet, so when her kids and grand kids came over to celebrate, I had gifts of my own to add to the pile. Then we ate tapas and drank-wouldn't you know it?-soda! It's funny that in the US, we drink soda like water, and here they only break it out for parties. anyways, so I experienced my first Spanish birthday. Que guay!
So I've been making a conscious effort to talk more and more, especially to my señora who is, after all, feeding and housing me. (It's only polite, ya dig?) Today over la comida, which is lunch, we talked about eating habits here versus those in Spain. She told me I was skinny, that she had expected me to be bigger before she met me, and that I needed to eat more. It's as though they're afraid I'm going to lose weight while I'm here. There's something about keeping up appearances, like, if I left after three months skinnier than when I arrived, it would mean either that they were cruel and underfed me, or that they're poor and didn't have the resources to feed me properly. One of them social stigmas, I reckon.
So, as promised:
Travel Tip #8:
Clean your plate. Literally.
So that's it, folks. I hope that wasn't too painfully long, and if you actually made it this far, hey, now I know who my true friends are. I will try not to have such sparse updates. They may be fewer and farther between than every day, as things settle down and we all develop a routine, but to be fair to you, because i love you all so much, I will try and update things, you know, as they actually happen.
"El mundo es un libro, y aquellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina."
Sunday, February 13, 2011
Day 8,537
I've decided I'm going to stop counting the days. It's too hard, I can't keep track. So today is Sunday, and it's incredibly difficult to believe that we've only been here for a week. The past 7 days of my life have been the best I've ever had. I can't begin to explain all the amazing places I've been, all the cool people I've talked to, or any of the insane nights I've had. And it's only been a week.
I feel compelled to update you all, but there is nothing specific to say. I could iterate how amazing of a time I'm having, but mere words won't suffice. Much like my photos will never look as beautiful as the real view. I wish I could pack up my life and move here permanently. It's a long way away and I shouldn't even be thinking about it, but I know I won't want to go home in just three short months. I don't say this often, but my dad was right. I should have come in the fall and stayed here for a year. A semester will never be enough time.
Yesterday was the santander versus some other city game. I met some friends at about 9:30 and we walked over to the stadium. I sincerely regret not going to the game, but we went to a nearby bar and watched it on tv. I really hate football, but I have to admit that last night's game was really fun, mostly thanks to the atmosphere surrounding it. These people go wild when there's a game. Racing (Santander's team) scored twice near the beginning, but the other team caught up fairly quickly. The score stayed at 2-2 up until the very last minute, when Santander scored a third time. We walked past the stadium after the game and the energy was palpable. The way back to my side of town is through a tunnel that is about 600 or so meters long, and walking back through was SO much fun. Tons of people waving flags or jerseys, and every car that passed honked its horn and cheered out the windows. Our throats were sore from cheering and my friend Bobby even complained that his hands hurt from clapping so much. Spaniards are serious about their football.
So of course we had to go out afterward to celebrate the victory. There are usually no cover charges here in espana, and the bars don't usually close until after three or four, which makes bar hopping an all-night adventure. Es un poco peligroso, pero no me importa.
I've said this before, but my favorite times are when we get to hang out with the ERASMUS students. There's never a dull moment, because they're all so foreign in more ways than one, so there is never a shortage of conversation. Not like talking to Americans, because I cant very well ask them when/how they learned English, what they do for fun, and if they've ever been to America, because I know the answers to all those questions. I really wish I could live like this forever.
We've begun to plan our trips a bit. I know a lot of us are planning on going to Dublin for saint patrick's day, and I just booked a flight to Paris with one of the girls here. I absolutely can't wait to go back to Italy. Italy was my favorite place to visit, and it's not just because of the italianos, who, admittedly, contribute significantly. I didn't have a travel tip prepared for today, but I just thought of one just now:
Travel Tip #5:
You must visit Venice and some point in your life. And you should probably do it soon, because I'm pretty sure global warming has its crosshairs set, and it's ready to pull the trigger any decade now. Sooner than we might think, Venice will be become the next lost city.
I am so strange. Everything I just said, what a weird way to word all that. Lo que sea. That means "whatever." I learned that yesterday. Ah, there are so many things I plan to bring back to the states. Siesta being the number 1 priority. America, this is important. We have to jump on this siesta bandwagon, I PROMISE you will ask yourself how you ever went without it. (but americans are too much in love with their jobs, so alas, siesta will never catch on over there. But por eso, this next one will-) Second on my list of things to bring back is "sunnies," which is not, strictly speaking, as much Spanish as it is Australian, but it will replace sunglasses. Listen, we're Americans. We got shit to do. We don't have time to say "sunglasses." That's a whole three syllables, people. Think about how much more productive we can be when we drop it down to two. and after that, it will evolve into just "suns." It will be fucking great.
Okay, I'm done now. I'll think of more things I want to bring back and write about them.
"El mundo es un libro, y aquellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina."
I feel compelled to update you all, but there is nothing specific to say. I could iterate how amazing of a time I'm having, but mere words won't suffice. Much like my photos will never look as beautiful as the real view. I wish I could pack up my life and move here permanently. It's a long way away and I shouldn't even be thinking about it, but I know I won't want to go home in just three short months. I don't say this often, but my dad was right. I should have come in the fall and stayed here for a year. A semester will never be enough time.
Yesterday was the santander versus some other city game. I met some friends at about 9:30 and we walked over to the stadium. I sincerely regret not going to the game, but we went to a nearby bar and watched it on tv. I really hate football, but I have to admit that last night's game was really fun, mostly thanks to the atmosphere surrounding it. These people go wild when there's a game. Racing (Santander's team) scored twice near the beginning, but the other team caught up fairly quickly. The score stayed at 2-2 up until the very last minute, when Santander scored a third time. We walked past the stadium after the game and the energy was palpable. The way back to my side of town is through a tunnel that is about 600 or so meters long, and walking back through was SO much fun. Tons of people waving flags or jerseys, and every car that passed honked its horn and cheered out the windows. Our throats were sore from cheering and my friend Bobby even complained that his hands hurt from clapping so much. Spaniards are serious about their football.
So of course we had to go out afterward to celebrate the victory. There are usually no cover charges here in espana, and the bars don't usually close until after three or four, which makes bar hopping an all-night adventure. Es un poco peligroso, pero no me importa.
I've said this before, but my favorite times are when we get to hang out with the ERASMUS students. There's never a dull moment, because they're all so foreign in more ways than one, so there is never a shortage of conversation. Not like talking to Americans, because I cant very well ask them when/how they learned English, what they do for fun, and if they've ever been to America, because I know the answers to all those questions. I really wish I could live like this forever.
We've begun to plan our trips a bit. I know a lot of us are planning on going to Dublin for saint patrick's day, and I just booked a flight to Paris with one of the girls here. I absolutely can't wait to go back to Italy. Italy was my favorite place to visit, and it's not just because of the italianos, who, admittedly, contribute significantly. I didn't have a travel tip prepared for today, but I just thought of one just now:
Travel Tip #5:
You must visit Venice and some point in your life. And you should probably do it soon, because I'm pretty sure global warming has its crosshairs set, and it's ready to pull the trigger any decade now. Sooner than we might think, Venice will be become the next lost city.
I am so strange. Everything I just said, what a weird way to word all that. Lo que sea. That means "whatever." I learned that yesterday. Ah, there are so many things I plan to bring back to the states. Siesta being the number 1 priority. America, this is important. We have to jump on this siesta bandwagon, I PROMISE you will ask yourself how you ever went without it. (but americans are too much in love with their jobs, so alas, siesta will never catch on over there. But por eso, this next one will-) Second on my list of things to bring back is "sunnies," which is not, strictly speaking, as much Spanish as it is Australian, but it will replace sunglasses. Listen, we're Americans. We got shit to do. We don't have time to say "sunglasses." That's a whole three syllables, people. Think about how much more productive we can be when we drop it down to two. and after that, it will evolve into just "suns." It will be fucking great.
Okay, I'm done now. I'll think of more things I want to bring back and write about them.
"El mundo es un libro, y aquellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina."
Saturday, February 12, 2011
Day 8??
I had my first taste of absinthe last night, and I have just one question: why? Why? Why would anyone want to ingest such a chemical? No, seriously, I'm asking. Why?? I just don't understand. After just one shot, I spent about 10 minutes in the bathroom waiting to vomit. Thankfully, I never did, but you can't be too safe. Seriously guys, today's travel tip is:
Travel Tip #4:
Don't drink the absinthe.
Okay, so things have settled down a bit. While we haven't started formal classes yet, we've gone on a few day trips to keep us busy. It's been, let's be real, kinda boring, but we've been able to spend a lot of time with the other international students, which is cool. You know what I heard? I heard that someone heard from someone that the school us Americans are going to is like the equivalent of an ivy league back in the states. I know, i know, it's such a reliable source, so it must be true. Ivy league or ECU, I'm in Spain and I would probably be taking the same A-for-effort-yay-you-spoke-Spanish type classes either way.
What else can I ramble about? I'm a bit cold. My señora keeps it cold in the apartment because I guess it's expensive to heat the place. I think it's going to rain later today. That would depress me if I were still in wilmington, but I'm not. I'm in Spain. It's still kind of unreal. I apologize if I seem a bit spacey, I'm still pondering why anyone of sound mind would willingly drink absinthe. It just doesn't make any sense. None at all.
Alright, everyone, tengan un buen dia. I think I'm going to find something productive to do with my day.
"el Mundo es un libro, y aquellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina."
Travel Tip #4:
Don't drink the absinthe.
Okay, so things have settled down a bit. While we haven't started formal classes yet, we've gone on a few day trips to keep us busy. It's been, let's be real, kinda boring, but we've been able to spend a lot of time with the other international students, which is cool. You know what I heard? I heard that someone heard from someone that the school us Americans are going to is like the equivalent of an ivy league back in the states. I know, i know, it's such a reliable source, so it must be true. Ivy league or ECU, I'm in Spain and I would probably be taking the same A-for-effort-yay-you-spoke-Spanish type classes either way.
What else can I ramble about? I'm a bit cold. My señora keeps it cold in the apartment because I guess it's expensive to heat the place. I think it's going to rain later today. That would depress me if I were still in wilmington, but I'm not. I'm in Spain. It's still kind of unreal. I apologize if I seem a bit spacey, I'm still pondering why anyone of sound mind would willingly drink absinthe. It just doesn't make any sense. None at all.
Alright, everyone, tengan un buen dia. I think I'm going to find something productive to do with my day.
"el Mundo es un libro, y aquellos que no viajan leen solo una pagina."
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