Daily Life in Granada...

I have a few little things that I keep meaning to blog about but put off because it doesn’t seem like enough for a blog, but now I think, between all of them, it’ll be enough. :)

On Sunday when I came home from skyping with my mom at the internet café, there were strange people in my house!! Concha’s brother (the one that’s alive and that I didn’t know existed—now I understand why, whenever she talks about her other brother she says, “the one that’s dead”) and his wife were in town visiting from Valencia, and they brought Concha’s mom over (she lives with Concha’s younger sister on the other side of town) for a visit. They were having tea and watching motorcycle racing when I came in, so Concha made me some tea and sat me down in the circle. At first I felt kind of awkward, but the wife (who Concha is really close to) was super nice and asked me questions about where I was from and that sort of thing, and we had that discussion about how Washington is, in fact, on the west coast and Washington DC is NOT, in fact, in Washington state, and how little sense that makes. (Seriously, whoever named our state “Washington” deserves an award for confusing pretty much the entire rest of the world.) Then we started talking about how no one in the USA knows world geography—some people think Portugal is a part of Spain, some people think the Alhambra is in Sevilla, etc—and had a really interesting discussion about politics and education and all that good stuff. I felt like they were genuinely interested in my opinion and it was surprisingly pleasant, even though I felt like I was bumbling through my Spanish and saying everything wrong because I was nervous. Anyways, it was really nice, and a few days later Concha told me her sister-in-law had called to say how much they all liked me, which of course made me feel great.

Now I can’t remember the second thing I was going to write about. Shoot.

Well the third thing is a bit of a rant, which I don’t usually do, but I’ve got to let off some steam or I’m seriously going to mangle some Spaniard one of these days. As much as I try to be culturally sensitive and aware and I usually don’t have any problems with catcalling and staring, it has been pissing me off to no end lately. Over the last few weeks, I feel like I have endured way more growls, whistles, hisses, invasive staring, and muttered come-ons than any one person should in their life. I have actually started trying to make myself look a little frumpier than usual before I leave the house—AND IT’S NOT HELPING. What grosses me out the most are the older guys—as old or older than my DAD—who stare at my really rather inappropriately and not at all subtly as I pass and then say “oye, guapa…” at me. I actually had some guy say the equivalent of “wow, what a hot thing” in Spanish to me. The feminist in me was SO LIVID—I mean, talk about objectification at the most fundamental and blatant level! Feminist Kelsey and Cultural Analyst Kelsey are really having it out over this whole problem, because I have to realize that, at some level, this is a cultural phenomenon—but, on the other hand, it is unacceptably machista and doesn’t exactly empower women—more specifically, me. I’ve started muttering things back, though—mostly along the lines of “F*** off, you mother f*ing asshole.” It makes me feel slightly better and slightly less like performing a few back-alley castrations, but still. I never thought I’d mind catcalling—after all, some days it’s nice to hear that perfect strangers think you’re hot—but it has gotten absolutely ridiculous, and I often feel like men single me out because I look and dress differently; because I am obviously not Spanish. I know I ought to embrace my uniqueness, but if that involves embracing drunk bums who stumble after me at 2 in the afternoon propositioning me, I’m sorry, but I think I’ll pass.

On to the next item of business! Both of my morning classes were cancelled today, so I spent a lovely morning wandering around the city and enjoying some much-needed solitude. First, I went to the Park—Parque Garcia Lorca—to sit in the intermittent sunshine by the fountains and write some letters. It was wonderfully tranquil—until a guy came up and tried to hit on me, but he was relatively nice about it, so I just smiled and said I was busy writing, and he went away. What a relief. Then, I went to the Church of the Patron Virgin of Granada—la virgen de las Angustias. It doesn’t look like much from the outside, but it is gorgeous inside—all gold curlicues and extravagant altars to various virgins or Christ figures. It was very lovely, so I sat down to enjoy the silence and lack of creepers. A French mom came in with her kids, and she sat on the other end of the bench I was on. Her kids wanted to light the little light bulbs masquerading as candles, so she gave them some coins and they came scurrying by me, almost stepping on my toes. The mom called to one of them and told her to say sorry (in French), but the little girl just kept going. The mom made eye contact with me and said sorry, and I said “No big deal”—in French! It just came out in French! I love moments like that where my languages just pop up and I impress myself. :) Not like, “No big deal” is exactly difficult to say, but still! I love my brain, it’s so coy.

Last thing! Today as I was finishing lunch, Concha got up and went into the kitchen, and came back out with this bubble wrap and started popping it. She said, “I just can’t help it! I LOVE popping this stuff!” And I laughed and said I did too, and she extended it to me, and we spent a good five minutes just popping bubble wrap and laughing. I love silly little moments like this; they make me feel so wonderfully young and human and connected with other great people.

Alright, signing off for now,
Pura Vida,
Kelsey