Barcelona, Blisters, Colds, and Classes

It has been a hard week. Between blisters, registration for classes (que fracaso), illness, and all the consequences of these things… oh boy. Long. Week.

But let’s start with the fun part—Barcelona!!! This past weekend was spent very pleasantly in Barcelona, arguably Spain’s most international city alongside Madrid due to its proximity to France, and therefore Europe, as well as its size and appeal as a travel destination for foreigners. I adored the city, although I feel like it might have been a bit overwhelming to study abroad in because it’s so big, and also because many people prefer to speak the local co-official language, Catalán, as opposed to Spanish. In some ways, I could understand the Catalan better than my fellow travel companions because I speak French as well and some of the words were basically a mix of Spanish and French (exit = sortie (fr.) + salida (sp) = sortida!), but sometimes it was just bizarre and made me feel like my brain was melting. The fact that some of the buildings also appear to be melting only adds to the weird mental delirium! :P Antoni Gaudí was a modern artist around the turn of the 20th century who created much of what makes Barcelona so fascinating to me—he designed and built several awesome but bizarre houses (the melting ones, plus some that look like gingerbread houses from fairy tales), the Sagrada Familia Cathedral with its melting front and fruit bulbed turrets, and the Parque Güell, with rock tree formations, an undulating ceramic patchwork bench, and an adorable Salamander fountain. He was so cute I had to give him a kiss. :) The first day of our weekend was mostly spent running around the city to see these various buildings, and wandering through Parque Güell, where I bought a really beautiful swirly ring from a gypsy and the other girls got scarves, rings, and necklaces. In the afternoon, we wandered down Las Ramblas to the Market of the Boquería, a really lovely market where all the fruit, candy, dried fruit, and other products are displayed with such precision and organization that it seems almost a shame to buy anything and disrupt the displays! Every stand was like a posed painting, and the exotic nature of much of the fruit added to this impression. I bought a little fruit bowl for only a euro fifty for an afternoon snack, and feasted on the mango, watermelon, strawberries, coconut, cactus fruit, and honeydew quite happily. That evening, my friend did a really lovely decorative braid in my hair, which was super exciting for me because I am basically a tomboy at heart and can’t do a damned thing with my hair most of the time except pray that it behaves itself! :P This first night, we found an all-you-can-eat buffet with a gorgeous salad bar and yummy pizza and pasta and gorged ourselves. I think almost every single one of us six girls ate over three plates of food, and most of us regretted it after, but it was still a fantastic (and fun) meal.

Of course, being the bright, forward-thinking young ladies we are, we forgot that we had planned to have a beach day the next day, and now the prospect of displaying bulging bellies in our dainty bikinis didn’t seem quite so appealing. :P However, we held fast to our plan and made our way over to the coarse sand beaches the next day to enjoy the sunshine and a break from sightseeing. Only four of the six ended up staying all day, and I am happy to say that I was one of them! I am also VERY proud to say that I managed to avoid sunburn despite being under the sun the whole day—yay for sunscreen!! It was a wonderfully relaxing day, and a very much needed break from both the daily grind as well as the frantic sightseeing of the previous day. Unfortunately, I was a bit of a ditz and didn’t drink quite as much water as I should have; when we got up to go back to the hostel, I suddenly felt dizzy, nauseated, faint, and way overheated. Oopsies, heat exhaustion! I really should have known better, but I was lucky to have great friends with me to pulled me along through the metro and force fed me water until we got to the hostel, and then basically pushed me into a cold shower, after which I felt much better and was able to lay down for a few hours to regain some strength before dinner. Dinner tonight was much simpler and smaller—pizza at a little cafeteria next to the hostel, and then gourmet ice cream before girly chat time in our bedroom and to sleep.

Our last morning in Barcelona, we wandered the Gothic Quarter a bit and had a coffee next to the Gothic Cathedral before visiting the Chocolate museum, which was both charming and delicious—the ticket to get in was a chocolate bar!!! :) My favorite chocolate sculptures were the ones that reinacted scenes from the French comic Astérix and “Up!” I was super excited about the Up one in particular—it was so adorable!!!

Our voyage home was long but uneventful, other than the fact that I was now beginning to feel positively horrible—congested, exhausted, achy, with very sensitive skin—all sure signs that I’m coming down with something unpleasant. As I had predicted, I woke up Monday morning feeling miserable, and skipped my morning classes to be able to rest and try to get a bit better. Tuesday I also skipped my morning classes, and I am SO glad I did, because by Wednesday evening I was starting to feel better, and today I am all better except for a little residual congestion. Still, you all know how much I HATE being sick, so I was quite a grump at the beginning of the week.

To add to my grumpiness, I had registration for next semester’s classes on Tuesday at 4pm Pacific time… which is 1 am my time. As I do not have internet in my house and didn’t want to stay up, and wander out alone and sick at one in the morning to an internet café, I did something kind of maybe like having my parents register for me. Maybe. I mean, I would never do anything against Scripps rules like give my password out… but come on. No one would blame me if I had.

Anyways, the one class I NEED to complete my general education requirements is a Natural Sciences class. Of course, by the time my registration time came around, both the ones I had picked out as non-science-major classes that fit in my schedule were full. Haha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Yeah. I was not so happy about that. I suppose maybe karma is trying to save me up some good luck so that my plane doesn’t get stuck in volcanic ash on the way home, but still. It was just another blow to my mood during an already difficult week. Well, I wrote to the teacher of my preferred class, and I’m fairly sure he’ll let me in, but I still don’t enjoy the extra stress that registration added to my week. Happily, I got into my three other classes without any fuss—“Voyage et Exotisme” (French class on Travel and Exoticism through literature), “Within the French Salon” (Another French lit class, to be taken with my lovely Melissa!!), and an Intro to Latin American Culture and Civ class (because I think I’ve got Spain covered now).

The next day I was so stressed about writing to the teacher and hearing back from him as soon as possible that I almost RAN back and forth from school—under the hot midday sun, in sandals, while sick—twice, and in doing so, gave myself a very angry blister. Guess where the blister was? Not on the side of my foot, not on my heel, no, on the BOTTOM of my foot, right under my second toe. And it was BIG—it probably protruded a good quarter of an inch (I don’t actually know since I didn’t measure it, but it was a lot of protruding angry blister, that’s for sure). THIS, my friends, was the cherry on top, and suddenly, I wasn’t angry or frustrated any more. Oh no, now I was hysterical, and hysterical for me means that I’m all laughs and giggles—and on the precipice of a nervous breakdown. It’s a dangerous but surprisingly enjoyable state to be in. Well, luckily, things started turning around and I didn’t have to have any breakdowns. When my host mom got home from the movies (Wednesday is her night to go to the movies with her friends, she’s so cute!), I showed her the blister and she called her friend (who was a nurse) to ask what the best course of action was. Because the blister was on the bottom of my foot, there was nothing to do but pierce it with a needle and drain the fluid so that I could walk the next day. I was really nervous that it would hurt a LOT, but because the surface of the blister is dead skin, the piercing and draining process was relatively painless! Concha and I had a good laugh over it and off to bed I went, feeling much more cheerful. Concha always has this affect on me. :)

Over the past two days, I’ve been resting up, and the blister has been healing beautifully under the strict supervision of Concha and repeated sterilization with… iodine? Some yellowish liquid that she uses as an antiseptic liquid. Tomorrow I’m off to the beach with some friends for the day to “work on my tan”—by that I mean lie in the sun all day obsessively applying sunscreen and watching my freckles start to appear. My nose is already highly freckled and adorable. :)

I almost forgot! Monday is Día de la Cruz, and all over Granada they set up crosses and play traditional music and people dance Sevillanas (traditional dance, relative of Flamenco), so yesterday Concha started teaching me Sevillanas! At first she was just going to teach me the first part (there are four parts), but I did so well that we made it right up to the fourth part last night!!! She said that I learned more in a day than many people learn in months of classes—I was very proud. Anyways, she wants me to dance it with her for her friends, which I’m excited about. I just LOVE spending time with Concha—I definitely feel like she has been one of the most positive parts of my experience here in Spain, and she made this week in particular much more bearable. :)

I hope you all have enjoyed a less turbulent week than me, with considerably less blisters. ;)
Pura vida,
Kelsey

The Truth is Out There...?

Hello all,

I feel bad for the last few blog entries I’ve made—after some reflection and re-reading, I realized that I’ve been a little careless about what I’ve been saying and haven’t provided enough context or information for someone who isn’t here in Spain with me to really get what’s going on in my world. I’ve been a little unfair to the Spaniards and am portraying both an unflattering image of those around me and, consequently, of myself.

Happily, this is something I can change. :) Let me tell you what’s REALLY going on here, dear readers.

First of all, I LOVE Spain. I adore the food, the weather (yes, even the rain!), the music, the traditions, the cities, the nightlife, the parks, the art, and yes, the people. For example, the guy who’s sort of like the doorman for our apartment building always greets me with a huge smile and asks me how things are going for me in Spain. I think he feels really proud to have an American living in HIS apartment building ;) but regardless, he’s adorable and always puts a smile on my face. There’s also the guy who owns a kebab place near my school who remembers what I order, what part of the country I’m from, and speaks to me in Spanish and English without making me feel like a dunce. Last week, I spent an afternoon in the park writing postcards and watching children playing, and seeing the Spanish families interact so lovingly filled me with happiness. And we can’t forget that guy who let me stand under his umbrella in the pouring rain so many weeks ago—I think he’s very important to remember. The people here have, by and large, demonstrated to me that this is a warm, welcoming, casual, social, and family-centric culture.

Now. Catcalling in Spain isn’t exactly the same as it is in other places. From what I understand (from my limited knowledge of Spanish history and culture), it is generally seen as a way to compliment a woman without losing a sense of one’s manhood. Perhaps the aggressive—and quick to reject—nature of Spanish women contributes to its prevalence (this is just conjecture on my part). Spanish women are notoriously difficult (according to all the guys I’ve talked to—especially my American friends, poor guys) and when they reject a man’s advances, they generally do it brutally. Coming from a culture in which the feminism of our grandmothers has catapulted into a culture in which a slightly off-color comment can get you slapped with harassment accusations, yet women turn right around and expect their bad behavior to be tolerated because they feel entitled, or “men have had this coming,” I’m not exactly used to having men be so forward and publicly… appreciative. For awhile here, I actually really enjoyed the catcalling, because for the most part it wasn’t disruptive to my day, the things people were saying to me were generally nice and not too raunchy, and hey, it feels good to have someone say, “Hey, look at that hottie,” to their friends as I pass by. It’s nice to know that guys find me attractive, even if this isn’t exactly the manner in which I would choose for them to express it.

Lately, I’ve been feeling a bit of frustration with life in general (it’s just a stage of cultural adaptation and nothing to worry about, it was bound to happen sooner or later), and men have become the target of my wrath purely because, well, a certain few exhibited some bad behavior right about the time I needed a target to shoot at. Several female friends have had very recent, very bad experiences with guys (both Spanish and American) that I had originally seen as wonderfully sweet and harmless, and add that up with a few rude comments from creepy old guys and one friend who actually had a guy try to grab her very inappropriately when she was merely walking down the street, and RAWR, I AM AN ANGRY WOMAN, AND MEN ARE THE DEVIL!!! Oh, boy.

Clearly, men are not the devil. In fact, I find that I often prefer to hang out with my guy friends because, generally speaking, they’re quicker to say what they mean, get to the point, decide on a purchase, they can keep up with me drinking, and they make better dance partners. I’m just sayin’. :P No, but really, I appreciate my guy friends SO much—when I need someone to talk to, they make great listeners and honest advisors; when I’m down, they bring me ice cream and funny movies or take me out dancing; they don’t mind when I swear like a trucker, and they teach me new things, like how to each sunflower seeds, and don’t laugh TOO much when I fail (thanks, Ben!); when I get myself into “situations” I don’t know how to get out of, they step in and clear things up without me even having to ask; when I need someone to walk me home at four in the morning, they don’t hesitate and they don’t bitch about how far away I live; and when I make a fool of myself, they are (for the most part) perfect gentlemen and don’t make fun of me or tell embarrassing stories at school the next day. The men in my life are what add the color, the depth, and the sanity to what would otherwise be a world way too full of estrogen and drama. Thank you, guys; you are truly great friends to have.

So, if I sounded a little (or a lot) like a raving mad man-hater in my last posts, please realize that the anger comes from frustration at seeing the pain my friends have experienced, and just the fact that I’m exhausted from eight months of being “that foreign girl” everywhere I go, of struggling to communicate, of feeling like an animal in a zoo (I get a lot of stares, even when I dress like a European), of stressing over travel plans, and of missing some of the people I love most in the world.

I also want to apologize to the universe for insinuating that I’ve been incompatible with the wonderful guys I’ve dated over the years. Yeah, so it didn’t work out, but the truth is that I really have dated some great guys who were all really right for me during the time I was with them, and who I still admire, respect, and care very deeply about. In fact, I am still on very good terms with most of them, and the rest I don’t talk to just because I don’t know how to get in contact with them! Enfin, I may have made some interesting dating choices in the past, but I always made them for the right reasons, and I always had at least some degree of compatibility with the guys I chose to date. I just don’t want anyone to think I harbor any hard feelings towards any ex-boyfriends—in the grand scheme of things, the disagreements were small, and the fights rare, and I’m willing to let that stuff be water under the bridge.

I think part of this much more peaceful and forgiving attitude comes from the fact that I’ve recently gotten back in touch with a few guys who may have hurt me (and who I hurt) over the last few years, and the amount of respect, forgiveness, and love that they have demonstrated to me really makes me feel happy, hopeful… and bad about giving men such a hard time. :P So, thank you, friends. You really are some special guys, and I want nothing more than to see you ALL happy and healthy.

It could also simply be that I am returning to my senses after an episode of over-emotional irrationality. I would like to believe that, deep down, I am a peaceful and forgiving person. :)

Wait—did I just express all of that in coherent English?!?! Clearly I haven’t been speaking enough Spanish lately! :P I’d better go fix THAT problem right away! OH—by the way—Concha has started teaching me Sevillanas so that I can dance in the street on Día de la Cruz (May 3), and she says I’m great already! Especially my hands and arms—I guess I was just born to dance Flamenco. ;) ;) But shh, I want to surprise my friends here and whip it out when they’re least expecting it!! Teehee! Sometimes, life is really fun. :) The sun was shining today, and I walked home just as the sun was beginning to set, when the sky was gold and baby blue with white polka dot clouds. Just when I think the world is all blackness and meanness after a hard weekend, the universe has a way of sending me gentle reminders that I am ok, the world isn’t full of crappy people after all, and the best thing I can do for both myself and the world around me is to be happy and keep loving, even when it’s hard.

I send my love across the ocean to you, dear reader, with a hug and a smile,
Pura Vida,
Kelsey

PS. Please think positive thoughts in the direction of Iceland and its nasty volcanoes… apparently, another one is supposed to erupt soon, but I need it to wait until I’m safely home in the states, ok? I understand that the world thinks it’s coming to an end, but please help me remind it that Kelsey needs to be back in Bellingham to see some adorable chicks, a lovely little apartment, the best big brother ever, the most supportive parents, and the best friends a girl could have before Armageddon rolls around. ;) Thanks.

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

Cuevas, Flamenco, and Celebrities--Oh my!

Hola a todos! I hope everyone has had a wonderful weekend—I certainly did! I have been so busy that I haven’t had any time to blog until now, on Sunday, and oh man, I have a lot I want to share!

First of all, something I’ve been noticing around the city that I keep meaning to mention is all the construction. A subway/metro is being built (not sure why, because Granada doesn’t really seem to need a metro to me, but what do I know), so one street over from my house is closed to traffic and literally being dug up, hollowed out, and repaved. At first, I was just excited to have a reminder of home and Cruncher right out my back door, but then I started noticing little things that disturbed me. For example, one day a welder was onsite welding something, and there was a guy standing not three feet away watching the welder—and not wearing safety glasses or any type of eye protection. I was like, dude, there’s a reason welders wear those full-face mask things. Also, I often see workers wandering the jobsites not wearing their hard hat or their high visibility vests. Usually they’ll have it tucked under an arm or something, but sometimes it’s nowhere to be seen. I know I may seem crazy for noticing these sorts of things, but it just struck me that the level of safety awareness or protocol here seems to be drastically different from what I’m used to hearing about and seeing back home. It makes you think—who’s missing the boat here? Are we (Americans) way too precautionary, or are they (in this case, Spaniards) not being careful enough? I feel like perhaps there’s a little of both going on, and also that the issue is never quite that simple. Just food for thought.

Ok, so, back to my awesome weekend. On Thursday night I went out for 1 euro margaritas with a few of my new friends, and that was really fun bonding time, although we didn’t stay out very late at all. Then, on Friday, we had an excursion through our program to go see the cuevas of Sacramonte—the old caves that people (mostly gypsies) created and lived in just outside of where the old city limits were back in the 15th century and up until modern day. Yup, some people still live in these caves in the hillside, although of course not the ones we went wandering through. It was really fascinating to explore these little manmade caves and see some of the furniture and objects they survived with only half a century ago—it reminded me in some ways of seeing staged pioneer houses, with the children’s toys and the washboards and things like that. Like I said, it was fascinating from a cultural and anthropological perspective, but also very humbling on a personal level. I am so very lucky to have been born in a culture and an era in which I have the things and the opportunities that I have. Sometimes I joke around and say that if I’d been born even just a hundred years earlier or in a different country, I may have already died because of my delicate health and temperament, but sometimes I think I may actually be right about that.

The sun was setting as we were walking back from Sacramonte, and the view of the Alhambra and Generalife was absolutely breathtaking. The white walls of Generalife glowing orange, the Alhambra in red, the dramatic shadows, and the clouds creating a dynamic layered background of fluffy pinky white. I tried to take pictures, but how can you really capture that in a picture? You can’t.

I finally got to have coffee with my friend Vicki—with whom I taught a fourth grade Spanish class last year for Core III, and who is also the girl who lived next to me in the Spanish hall last year—and it was so wonderful to see a familiar and friendly face, to chat with someone who already knows me and doesn’t need context to have a conversation that goes beyond “Can you believe all this rain?” and “How are your classes?” I’d really like to make a habit of seeing her a few times a week for coffee or tapas, although our busy schedules will, I am sure, get in the way. Still, it was so refreshing to hang out with her, and I’m looking forward to seeing her again.

Friday night, a group of my new friends and I went out in search of a good tapas bar, and ended up finding a bar at the end of Calle Elvira that had live Flamenco music!! It was so wonderful. I had a glass of Rioja (my new drink of choice) and my little tapa and really enjoyed the experience of being part of a Flamenco performance. The group was made up on a guitarist, a percussionist, and a… clapper? A guy who sat there and clapped. Both the clapper and the guitarist sang, and actually, there was a Spanish girl and her boyfriend right behind me that knew many of the songs and sang along as well! I was surprised to find that I, too, knew a few of the songs they sang—one was a song I have by the Gypsy Kings and another was one that Concha gave me, although I can’t remember who sings it in the recording I have. I really loved the husky voices and the wild guitar, and I was tapping my feet and bopping around as much as I could in the smoky bar packed full of people. It was such a cool way to spend an evening.

On Saturday morning, Concha took me to a museum; she is a supporter of the local orchestra, and occasionally the Friends of the Orchestra group organizes cultural visits or events, so we got in at a reduced price and had a guided tour. The museum was really wonderful; it had a lot of newfangled interactive exhibits as well as the more classic displays of antique dental equipment/toys/a saddle/guitars, etc. There were also panels and drawers you can lift up or pull out to read about certain aspects of Andalucían culture or see and touch different types of materials, trees, fruits, etc. All in all, it was a really awesome museum, and I would love to go back with more time at some point.

The entire time, the tour guide was kind of hurrying us along through the museum. She did a great job of helping us see everything, but we kept asking each other, what’s the rush? What’s up? Also, there was a lot of security outside of the museum, and Concha wasn’t sure why. At the end of the tour, the guide told us, “I’m sorry to have rushed you a bit today, but we have a special visitor arriving soon, and we need to have the museum clear of the public before he gets here.” We all asked, who is it? The mayor? Some local politician? Who? And she said, “No, actually, it’s Antonio Banderas.” OH MY GOD, Concha and I were like, ok, we have to wait and see him. We waited outside in the sunshine (yayyy, it was finally sunny yesterday, but freezing, too!) and in a few minutes there was a hubbub, and sure enough, here comes Antonio Banderas!!! He was wearing a baseball cap and sunglasses, and he’s grown this annoying salt-and-peppery beard which makes him look old, but STILL, he was all curly hair and smouldery eyes and guapísimo. And Concha, being the awesome person she is, says to him as he’s passing within TWO FEET OF US, “Hey, pick your head up so we can see your pretty face better, guapo!” And as anyone should react to a tiny and adorable little spitfire such as Concha, he smiled, looked at us and said, “Hola; gracias.” OH MY GOD, GUYS, ANTONIO BANDERAS LOOKED AT ME AND SMILED. I feel like my life is complete! Haha, just kidding, but STILL.

Ok, so then we were walking away to go home, and this whole tour bus of people is following Antonio into the museum—it was the team that worked on the Spanish short film that A.B. produced called “La Dama y La Muerte,” which just won a Goya (Spanish Oscar, for context) and is nominated for an Oscar for Short Animated Film. Look it up on Youtube, it’s fantastic (and not in Spanish, don’t worry). Anyways, the director, writer, and the guy who came up with the concept and orchestrated the whole film is Javier Recio Gracia, and he is probably in his mid to late 20s, very attractive, and probably the nicest young man I’ve ever met. YES, MET. I HELD HIS GOYA. THAT’S LIKE HOLDING AN OSCAR. SORT OF. And he stopped and chatted with me and Concha and a few of Concha’s friends, and let us take a picture with him, and did the kisses on the cheek thing when we left!!! He was soooo sweet, and sooooo attractive, and just very enthusiastic about his art. He won an award for his first film I think last year or a few years ago, and won the Goya for La Dama y La Muerte this year, and is maybe going to win an Oscar!! I was out of my mind gaga over this guy. IT WAS SO COOL!!! (About two hours later it struck me that I should have given him my phone number and I started kicking myself over that, but then I realized that it would have been really random and awkward… but still!!! On the off chance that he would have called me and we could have had a drink and talked about art and creativity and HOW COOL HE IS, I still should have forced myself on him—or, I mean, my number… yeah…)

So, after having met Antonio Banderas and Javier, Concha was like, “We can’t just go home. Let’s go have a beer.” Haha! So she bought be a beer at this little bar and we got these delicious tapas and just kind of let it sink in. Wow! It was a morning I will never forget.

I know everything else will seem really boring and normal after that story, so I’m just going to leave you with the images of Goyas and celebrities floating through your heads.

OH one last thing, I finally bought myself a new pair of boots to replace the France boots, which are dying—they’re literally starting to come off of the soles in places, which makes them a lot less waterproof. :P

Alright, I love you all!! I hope all is well in your lives.

Pura Vida,
Kelsey

PS. I SAW MYSELF ON TV!!!! Yes, that´s right, I was on Spanish television grinning like the star-struck fool I was as Antonio Banderas walked by!!! IT WAS AWESOME! Concha said it's just the beginning of my life in the limelight :P I love that woman.

A Note of Gratitude

I am so grateful for my wonderful friends—for Kat and April and Rowan and Lydia and Nora and Concha and Zach and Matt and my big brudder and my mama and my daddy and for everyone who has been holding me up and enhancing my life with every positive thought they think about me. I swear to you—te lo juro—that you guys must be sending me some pretty freaking positive juju, because my life has been a series of amazing moments, awe-inspiring moments, and moments of intense connection with the world around me recently. I know it cannot always be wonderful, but I am starting to adhere to the theory that our moments (or day, months, or years, as the case may be) of darkness help us to appreciate the light and the goodness of life when it is good.

GUYS. I am HAPPY. HAPPY. Daily, weekly, from moment to moment, I’m happy. It’s something I didn’t expect to find here, and it really snuck up on me, but here I am, living in a new, strange city and culture and speaking a foreign language and making new friends and I’m HAPPY. Laughter comes easily all of a sudden, and I think I’m smiling more than I have in… too long. France was an amazing experience as well, but I wasn’t happy there like I am here. I was GLAD to be there, but I am happy here, and just happy with life in general here, and God, Universe, Love, whatever might be out there that is bigger than my small self, thank you. Whether or not you had anything to do with me coming here to find my happiness, thank you for my existence, for the opportunity to prove to myself that I am stronger than my circumstances, that I am bigger than bitterness, that I am smarter than stagnation, and that I am braver than I ever thought possible.

Thank you, everyone who loves me and thinks of me kindly and fondly from time to time. You are the hands that propel me upwards and pushed me out that door and onto that airplane—metaphorical and physical—that whisked me away from emotional death to the baby phoenix of new beginnings and new opportunities. My behbeh phoenix is growing healthy and strong and trying out its drying wings. Off we go together into this sweet, small world! Thank you for blowing away the ashes that stifled us.

I love you.

Kelsey


PS. I will blog about this WONDERFUL WEEKEND tomorrow. Stay tuned. It's been exciting. :)

One Month in Granada!

Oof, what a busy week! Wednesday, the 17th, marked one month of me living with Concha, and we celebrated by having wine with lunch and then watching an old Fred Astaire movie on TV that evening—of course, accompanied by wine and chocolate. ;) I also got a wonderful surprise in the mail!!! A Valentine’s day package from my big brudder with chocolates and a sweet card and a movie and a wonderful, soft, pink teddy bear I am naming Rosita—basically “Pinky” in Spanish. It’s nice to have something soft and lovely to snuggle at night. Between Concha and Heashen, I had a pretty fantastic day. :)

Also, my friends and I bought super wonderfully cheap plane tickets to go to Barcelona for a long weekend in April! I am realllly excited; I think it’s going to be fantastic. I can’t wait to start exploring Spain more in earnest—Madrid, Sevilla, Toledo, and Barcelona for sure, and probably Bilbao and Córdoba and Valencia and god knows where else! Spain is such a fascinating and beautiful and historical place, and it’s very different from anywhere else I’ve ever lived or traveled to. I feel so very lucky to be here.

I noticed something about my Flamenco music teacher yesterday as well—the really cute little old man I want to put in my pocket and take home, remember? He has beautiful long fingernails on his right hand, and short fingernails on his left hand. Which means, I believe, that he plays the guitar! You see, I remember from playing the violin that in order to play notes precisely it is important to have relatively short fingernails on your left hand, which holds the strings down. I assume it’s similar with guitar. And I bet you he uses his longer fingernails on his right hand as picks to pluck the strings! Ok, so I might be really wrong, because I don’t play the guitar, but this is my hypothesis, and I’m just super proud of myself for making such a cool observation!

I’ve also been noticing that I seem to have a penchant for depressing music. Haha! It doesn’t bother me, I just think it’s interesting that when I have the choice between happy and sad songs, I usually prefer the sad ones. I don’t think it’s because I’m sad, because I certainly feel quite happy here in Granada—which was, and continues to be, a really pleasant surprise.

Oh my, I am just so tired today! I think it must be because I just finished classes for the week and I still have to go back to school to buy plane tickets to France, and I haven’t really decided on which I want to buy yet. That sort of stress is very exhausting to me. But it’s so worth it—my plan is to fly to Paris to visit Kristin (with Elisa) and take a train to visit Nora in Nantes over spring break. How exciting! But the details always stress me out—hostels and trains and planes and buses, and what all do I need to arrange in advance?! Oh boy. Ok, well, off I go. I send my love, please forgive me if it feels a little lethargic today. ;)

Pura Vida,
Kelsey

PS. It is raining almost constantly. I'm trying to perfect my sunshine dance so that I don't have to buy any damned umbrellas...

Meet my future husband

Written February 16, 2010

I’m listening to wonderful jazz and finally snuggled up on my bed after a long, but productive, day. Tuesdays, a woman comes early in the morning to clean the bathroom and a bit more of the house, because Concha has problems with her back and it isn’t good for her to do too much serious housework—like washing the floor on her knees or something. I always kind of wake up when I hear her working in the bathroom, which is next to my room, and then go back to sleep for another hour or so before I get up for breakfast. I don’t have to be at school until 11:30 on Tuesdays and Thursdays, but I like to get there about 15 minutes early to check my email and say hi to my friends before classes start. I had a great lecture and then a great discussion class this morning, and homework is starting to roll in. All doable, but I was so enjoying such a long vacation! :P Lunch was fantastic today, really scrumptious. We had a fish soup thing—more squidlies, but I’m getting used to eating them now, and have actually started thinking of my stomach as a fishbowl where all the little fishes and squid-ums can have a lovely little party. If anyone had any doubts that I am absolutely bonkers, I think I just did away with them. ;) ;) Anyways, along with the fish soup we had this delicious salad that reminded me very much of ceviche—clams, onions, tomatoes, lemon juice, YUM. And, of course, a hunk of bread and a wonderful Spanish orange—the oranges here are AMAZING.

After lunch, I went back to school to work out some travel details, and I think I have some exciting trip plans for March and April! Mid-march we have a week off—semana santa, the holy week before easter—and I’ll be heading to France to visit Kristin and Nora and meet up with Elisa! I am very excited. I’ll get to see Paris and Nantes and three of my favorite ladies in the world. :) Now, I just need to book flights and start looking into trains and places to stay. Then, mid-April, I’m going to go to Barcelona with a group of my new friends here! The plane tickets are shockingly cheap, and I am SO EXCITED to spend an extended weekend in this wonderful city. Yay!

Tonight I had the first classes of my Phonetics and Granada Seminar courses with José—the guy who also teaches Tutorías—and OH MY GOD, I am going to marry this man. He. Is. HILARIOUS. I will give you examples (because I’m nice like that):

1. At the beginning of Phonetics, he bumped the cord for the screen that all classrooms have that you can project things on—you know those that are annoying and never stay down when you pull them down? Anyways, so it starts swinging and clicking on the white board like a grandfather clock—tick, tock, tick, tock. And his eyes get huge and he turns and slams his hand onto it and says, in English, “I can’t stand it, it’s like a torture!” It was the cutest thing ever. Then, he put the cord up on top of the white board and it falls down, so he puts it up again and steps back and stares at it for a good thirty seconds. Then, turns to us and in total sincerity says, “I am scared!” I love this crazy v-neck-sweater-wearing Spaniard.

2. He was explaining how different phonemes are formed in the mouth, such as “Guh-guh—like in goose… kuh, kuh—conquer.” When we got to f, he said, “Fff, ff—fugly.” We were all so surprised that there was a pause, and then the whole class burst into laughter. I’m telling you, LOVE HIM.

3. While explaining the different sorts of phonemes we have in American English but aren’t in British English, he used the example of the ‘r.’ I don’t know why, but I just about died from too much funniness when he was saying, “Caaw, caaw, CAR. CAR. Caaaw, CAR.”

4. He speaks English very well, but still has a very Spanish accent and uses this one phrase all the time that just sends us into a tizzy of giggles: “It’s ok?” I don’t know why, just the way he says it is fantastic.

5. At one point while talking about gypsies, I think, he threw out an amazing X-Files reference that just about sent me over the edge. He said, “No one really knows where this custom came from, but it’s like Mulder and Scully, you know? The truth is out there.” This was the moment in which I knew I must marry him. Screw the thirty year age gap and the fact that he may very well be gay; it’s gonna happen.

Another really funny moment from the phonetics class was when he was having us practice our Spanish rolled ‘r’s, and everyone was going, “rrrRRRRrrrr… rrrRRR? RRRRR!!” And I turned to the girl next to me and I was like, “I feel like we’re all hitting on each other; it’s great!” It really was great.

Tonight, Concha fixed me a special dinner. Usually I just have a sandwich and a yogurt, but tonight I had a lovely roasted garlic and leek soup with apple cider vinager sprinkled on top, a small green salad and some fried little ham rolls, which are SO YUMMY. It was really to die for. I’ve kind of just had a to-die-for evening, it would seem. :)

Whoof, I bet you can tell how tired I am from my rather lack-luster entry today, but I really wanted to share about José anyways. I miss you guys a lot; I wish you were here so I could tell these stories over a coffee or tapas instead of over the internet. I’ve been trying to write postcards and letters whenever I have free time, too, because I know getting something personal in the mail is so much better than a blog or even an email. I hope you know how much I love you and can’t wait to see you again!

Pura vida, y que tenga un buen día!

Kelsey

Fish-capades,"to shit a brick," and puppies: just your average day in Granada

Written February 15, 2010

Hola hola coca cola! Haha, oh man, I crack myself up. That was what my high school Spanish teacher said every day to start class, I think. Señora Waldron, you would be so proud of me now! :P Anyways, on to more important things. Today I think I’ll write about the food here, and my classes. Trust me, you want to read this, unless of course your name is Melissa and you can’t stand fish. In which case, maybe skip this one, honey.

The food here is MAGNIFICENT. You know how they say the Mediterranean diet is the healthiest in the world? Ok, so they might mean in Greece or Italy or something, but I’m really praying they mean Spain, because I eat SO MUCH here, and I want to believe it’s good for me. No, guys, you don’t understand, I eat like a horse. Or maybe two horses. I don’t understand where the food goes; every lunchtime I look at the food Concha gives me and I’m like, “No way. No way that all of that is fitting into my stomach.” But GUYS—I’ve started finishing my portions. It’s LOCO. For the first time in my life, I am actually worried about putting on weight. I’m serious. I am praying to the gods of metabolism to help me out here.

Here’s a typical day of eating for me: Breakfast at 9 am, two pieces of toast, a croissant filled with chocolate, a small muffin, café con leche; Lunch at 2:30 or 3 pm, a large green salad with olives and tuna and corn, a large meat soup OR several rather large pieces of fish OR a plateful of paella OR something similar, half a baguette, and a piece of fruit; dinner at 9:30 pm, a ham and cheese sandwich, toasted to deliciousness, and a yogurt or pudding. SO MUCH FOOD. I swear to god I must eat several loaves of bread a week. But guys, the food in delicious. Really amazing. Concha says she’s not the best cook, but I have to disagree; she has yet to make me something I genuinely don’t like. Sometimes I get kind of sick of all the fish, but I’m all about complete cultural adaptation—I’m kind of hardcore, just sayin’—so I just smile and swallow.

Which reminds me to tell two food stories. The first week I was here, she made me a fish soup, which was mostly pretty yummy—potatoes and carrots and broth and what looked like scallops and clams… and then this other fish. It took me a minute to figure out what it was, but then I lifted a tentacle out of the soup. Ah. Calamari. Squid. Hahaha. I looked at Concha eating away and I thought to myself, “As weird as the texture or flavor may be, you can’t offend this lovely woman, who probably is pulling out all the stops for you during your first week here. I bet this is a delicacy. And hey, I’ve swallowed a lot more disgusting things in my life (cow udder? yech). Bottoms up!” And I ate every bite of that soup. It was kind of hard to chew some of the really intact tentacles just because I felt like I, personally, was killing the poor little Squidums, but you know what, that was one good soup.

The second story comes from today, actually. Concha was going to try to surprise me by making me pescado frito—fried fish, a local specialty. But she couldn’t get the frier to work exactly right, and it kind of just turned into grilled fish, which was, again, mostly wonderful! We had this cod-like white fish which was SO YUMMY, and then this chewy ring things—maybe more squid? Or octopus? Or something… I know it was a sea-life thing. And then, the coup de grace: little tiny fishies, eyes and bones and stomachs and everything still intact. I was like, oh hot damn, I don’t know if I can do this one. I watched to see how she ate them, and she just stuck three or four on her fork and popped ‘em into her mouth. Egad. So I copied her, and oh man, I am not really a picky eater, and fish usually goes down fine for me, but these little fishies tasted a little bit too much like little fishies, if you know what I mean. But you know what, I knew she’d tried so hard to make me a nice surprise and it hadn’t turned out how she wanted, and god help me, I was not going to make her feel any worse. So, I just paired the fish-ums with bread or pieces of the roasted pepper salad (DELICIOUS) or other fish bits, and I gobbled them down. Smiling the whole time. And as soon as I finished lunch, I brushed my teeth really well and ate three cookies that my momma back home sent me. SUCCESS.

So, yes, most of the food I eat here is TO DIE FOR yummy, but sometimes I get an odd little fishy and have to kind of grit my teeth to dig into it. Honestly, it is so worth it to me to make Concha feel good, and also because I convince myself that these odd fish bits must be really good for my health, right? Right.

On to the next subject! Which is classes! I am actually really excited about my classes this semester for two reasons: first of all, they seem really interesting and all my teachers seem great; secondly, because they seem a lot easier than what I’m used to. Hallelujah! A vacation after the nose-to-the-grindstone which was la France!!

My first class of the day today was Spanish Culture and Civilization, and it looks like it’s going to be a lecture-and-notes class, but the teacher is really engaging and asks questions for us to respond to, so I don’t think I’ll fall asleep or anything silly like that. Today we went over the history of Spain from prehistoric times until the Spanish Civil War—wow! It was a great overview, and got me really excited to see what we study in this class.

My second class was Translation, and I have to be honest—it will not be NEARLY as cool and inspiring as my Translation class with Francesca last semester. I was literally sitting in class thinking, “I miss Francesca! And translating in class! And Sylvia Plath and Henry James and Toni Morrison!” But you know what, it’ll be a really good, practical class for me to take if I ever need to get work translating for the tourism industry or a school or other academic institution, because those are the focuses of the class, along with translation technique. I’m hoping it’ll be a nice complement to what I learned last semester, and the teacher is, once again, a pretty cool guy, although, sadly, not Francesca. :(

My third class of the day was Tutorías, which I’ll only have once a week, and I really didn’t know what to expect from it. It’s a class of only four students and the teacher, and it’s supposed to supplement our Spanish learning with grammar and that sort of thing. The teacher is named José, and he is a kick in the pants. What a card. He cracks me up. His favorite word in English is “ass,” which he pronounces with a hilarious Chicago accent; his favorite phrase is “shit a brick,” because he says there’s nothing so expressive in Spanish. He says his life changed the day he learned that expression; there is a before and an after the “shit a brick” phrase came into his life, and he tries to use it every day now. He is also in love/obsessed with Diana Ross, and has pictures of her plastered all over his office, where we have class. He says his only hobby is: doing nothing. Haha! And he pronounces “hobby” the Spanish way, with a very guttural ‘h.’ And demands that we do the same. I might be in love with this man. Hahaha, what a character. Anyways, we’re actually going to be studying/learning street Spanish and Spanish slang in that class because we don’t really need to study grammar anymore (or at least he thinks we don’t).

My last Monday class is Flamenco and Traditional Music of Spain. The first day of class, this little, skinny, balding old man walked into the room, and I was like, oh boy, maybe this wasn’t the best class choice. However, as soon as he put on some Flamenco music and started stomping and banging on the desk like a wild man, I realized I’d made a very good choice. He is the most adorable old man ever; I want to put him in my pocket and take him home with me, you know? And he is SO passionate about music, and in particular Flamenco. Flamenco is so much more than just one tune or even one style of song, and it’s much more than just the dance or just the music or just the singing; it’s a whole culture, and there are so many subcultures and categories and important aspects of it. I am so excited about learning about it all and coming home an expert in this beautiful music!!

So those are my Monday/Wednesday classes and teachers in a nutshell. Tomorrow (today by the time I post this), I have Comparative Study of Literature and the Visual Arts with a really enthusiastic and amiable teacher, as well as Written and Oral Expression, which is a required class that I wasn’t excited about it at first, but I love the teacher and I think it’ll be good for my Spanish, so I’m happy with it after all. Yay!

I wanted to mention one more thing before I sign off and go to bed: today, I was feeling kind of delicate emotionally, kind of down. It was one of THOSE days. Today, I saw five different puppies on my walks to school and back. How can you not be cheered up by bouncy, wobbly-on-their-feet, excited-about-life, floppy-eared, big-pawed, puppy-dog-eyed little woggies that almost fall over when they shake? and run up to sniff at your ankles and smile their puppy dog tongue-y smiles at you? And FIVE of them in one day? Ok, universe, I get it, chin up. Thank you again. I love you, too.

Pura vida (evidentemente),

Kelsey

A Night in with my Spanish Mama

Originally written February 12, 2010

I have to rave about Concha again, I’m sorry; I bet you guys are tired of hearing how in love with my host mama I am.

First of all, this morning I hung out at home writing and studying and just generally chilling, and Concha kept popping into my room with travel recommendations for the semester and exciting ideas of things for me to do. She offered to dress me up “de gitana”—in some of her traditional Flamenco or “gypsy” dresses—and take pictures of me one day while I’m here. I’m super excited! She’s also hopefully going to teach me Sevillanas, which is a simple type of Flamenco dance. She did a few steps, and I was like, wow, geez, I didn’t know you were a dancer! But apparently she was a really good Sevillanas dancer when she was younger, so of course she’s still got the moves. I also have started noticing that sometimes she sings in the kitchen or when she’s doing housework, and she has a really good voice! I had no idea I was living with such a talented little lady!!

Ok, and now get this. Tonight, I wasn’t feeling particularly well—I had what felt like the beginnings of a migraine—so I decided to stay in and maybe just cool it on the couch and watch TV for a few hours before going to bed early. I know, sounds like a RIVITING evening, but let me tell you, I had SO much fun with Concha. The Carnaval festivities in Cadiz are televised, or at least the stage performances, and so we settled in with a bottle of Spanish wine and chocolate and candied fruit and marzipan and watched some really spectacular performances. I was so grateful to have her there to explain everything to me, because although my level of Spanish comprehension is pretty good and definitely improving, it was very hard to understand some of the comedy and singing groups. Even Concha missed some of what they said, so that made me feel a little better.

So, for those of you who, like myself, know nothing about what Carnaval in Cadiz is like, I’ll explain what we watched: it seems to be a competition between three different types of comedy groups—those who mainly act, those who mainly sing (and I mean, beautiful, talented singers, operatic, some of them), and then the type in between that sings all their jokes but don’t have the same singing chops and the second group. It began as a competition of groups of only the third type, and then expanded to include groups that were more specialized in singing or in skits. There are winners for best performance, best costumes, and I’m sure other things as well. The costumes are usually over-the-top and very professional—I mean, these aren’t back-alley comedy groups; these guys are so prepared and polished that they freaking shine. Or glitter, as the case may be. The jokes are very pointed—critical of the government, education, the economic crisis, and often the groups themselves—and very, very funny. I got some of the jokes on my own, and the rest Concha helped me understand. Of course, there are a lot of sex jokes and stuff like that, too, because the groups have to satisfy both the judges and the audience, much of which is well on the way to sloshed. The audience participates a LOT, too—people will call out certain things and either the performers or the rest of the audience replies. It was an incredible production, really, and I was impressed by how much everyone seemed to know what was going on and what they’re role was in it. One of the skits was set in the American “West”—cowboy, Indians, sheriff, and even the token drunk Mexican wearing his poncho and sombrero. It was hilarious and biting and I was very impressed.

I feel like I just had a really awesome cultural experience with a really helpful guide. And accompanied by really fantastic Spanish wine—Rioja, I think? Never heard of it; tasted very different than the French reds I’m accustomed to; but I like it a lot. It’s got a lot of body and personality—this wine has an agenda and it’s not afraid to tell you! At first I was put off by the aggresiveness, but after a few sips, I got into conversation with it and started loving it. And a great wine paired with dark chocolate, madre mía, que bueno. Ok, I’m sorry, I’ll stop.

Alright, bedtime! I have a feeling I’ll sleep a lot better tonight than I have been lately; I feel good and warm and loved and like the world is alright, you know? Despite illness or sadness or whatever else may complicate my life, I am ok at a very deep level of my being.

Either that or I just drank a third of a bottle of strong Spanish wine in about an hour.

Pura Vida,

Kelsey

Granada! A quick recap of my first few weeks.

Hello again! I guess it’s probably time for me to talk about Spain a little, huh? Oh boy, where to begin? (By the way, you guys should definitely send me questions or topics you want me to write about so that I don’t run out of fun stuff to say.)

Well, I think it might be best to begin at the beginning and work my way towards now. Getting here to Granada was probably the most difficult—not logistically, but mentally and emotionally. I remember standing in the Dallas airport as my flight was boarding, crying on the phone with my mom and feeling SO tempted not to get on the plane. But, I did get on the plane, and although I cried quite a bit and it was a pretty miserable 8 or 9 hours, I made it to Madrid, and once I got off the plane there, I felt a LOT better. People were speaking Spanish and strutting around in their European clothes, and I said to myself, “Ok, you can do this. You WANT this. This is important to you, and you’re not going to let life’s unexpected shiftings ruin a wonderful opportunity for you, are you? NO.” And I got my old French strut going and sashayed on over to my gate. There were a ton of other Americans in my program on my flight, and we were all nervous together (although it made me feel all old and wise to be able to say, “It’ll be ok, guys, trust me—I’ve done this before”). I bonded with a few girls waiting for our bags once we got to Granada, too, and ended up taking a taxi to the hotel with them. It was pretty funny, because we were a huge group of clueless American students, and no one wanted to take the lead and figure out if we should take a bus or taxis, so this guy (I still cant remember which guy, and there’s only like six in my program, oops, I must have been really tired) and I were like, OK, GUYS, FOLLOW US, and we took off and got everyone lined up, and then hopped in the first taxis and off we went! I was so proud of myself.

I have to say, I definitely saw myself at the beginning of last semester in the faces of every single one of my peers that day, and I said to myself, “Wow, look at how far you have come, Kelsey, when it comes to facing your fears and walking straight into the face of danger—and with a smile! And think of how far each of these fresh, scared young faces is going to come over the course of the next few months—and think of how far YOU will come, too, even farther than you can imagine in this moment.” And it made me feel really good about my decision to come to Granada. I think I didn’t get to appreciate how much growing I did last semester when I was home over Christmas because there was too much else going on in my life, but I’m beginning to really acknowledge it now. It makes me think that, despite everything which may have gone wrong or may have SEEMED to have gone wrong, something went right, because I did what was right for me, even when it was almost too hard. I stayed true to myself in the face of failure and rejection and the Unknown, and I came out the other side still standing. I have an inkling that somewhere down the line, I will look back and see that everything happened just as it should have in order for me to grow and become the person I am becoming. WOW, right?!

Then, of course, I got to the hotel and absolutely crashed. I was so exhausted that pretty much as soon as I’d taken a quick shower and sat down, I started bawling and decided to take a nap. It was a good decision. After my nap, I wandered around the area near the Cathedral without really knowing where I was or where I was going, and when I got back to the hotel, I ran into the girls I’d taken the taxi with and a few others and we went out to get tapas and sangria for dinner. Another great decision. I got to have some bonding time with some really nice girls who are now my friends, and the sangria was delicious.

The next day, we met our host families! My host mama is the bestest ever. Her name is Concepción, but she goes by Concha, and she is a very short, rather round and really lovely little Spanish lady who is probably in her late 50s or early 60s. I think I’ve described her to various people as a very cheerful watermelon with appendages, and I mean that in the nicest way possible. She is the cutest little lady ever—and I mean little: when I wear shoes with any heel at all, I feel like I tower over her. And everything in the house is pretty low to the ground accordingly, so I sort of feel like I’m living with a hobbit. She is widowed and has no children, but she does have siblings (not sure how many, although I know she has a brother who died of cancer a few years ago and a sister who won a car on a gameshow when she was my age). She loves game shows, and our favorite is Pasapalabra, a word game one, and I’m getting to the point where I can understand the announcer (who speaks at hyperspeed) and sometimes I can actually say the answer before the contestants! I’m very proud of myself. She collects fridge magnets and cool trinkets from her travels, which have taken her as far as Egypt, Greece, Scotland, and Morocco. Concha was absolutely charmed by the gifts I brought her from home, and the day after I gave them to her, she had gone out and bought me a special mug all of my own that I can use here and then take home when I leave “to remember my time in Granada, ” she said. I was so touched that she had gone out of her way to get me a beautiful little ceramic mug, and it’s very traditional of Granada in decoration. I love my mug. :) Concha also loves movies, and she goes to the cinema with her friends a few times a week, usually. She is also super smart—she knows so much about Granada, and Spain, and the world in general. Sometimes I think she knows more about the United States than I do! She has also read a LOT in her life, and she has opened up her personal library to me if I want to read some García Lorca or Cervantes while I’m here. I think I will take her up on the offer! She watches a lot of TV, but she is often working on an embroidery project or something else while watching the news or whatever is on. I feel like I’m a lot more caught up on world news since I’ve been here just from talking to Concha and watching the news with her on occasion. Basically, I love Concha and I think she is the greatest little Spanish lady in the world. Oh, and, she says her doctor told her she has to lose ten kilos (oy! that’s a lot!), so she’s going to start going swimming every Tuesday and Thursday while I’m in my morning classes. She’s already lost over a kilo! Holy cow! I’m very proud.

Oh, and, one last rave about my awesome host mama—when I went to Morocco, I had a cold, so she made me a special bocadillo (sandwich/sack lunch) and stuck in an orange, a yogurt, and two little chocolates “para mimarme”—to spoil me. It was the sweetest thing ever. AND, when I went to Venice, she made me TWO bocadillos complete with fruit and chocolates. OH, AND, one night after I had been crying on the phone with my mom at home, I told her that I was a little homesick (and that I was sad because my boyfriend had just broken up with me, blah blah, we bonded, it was great), but not to worry about me. The next night, she fixed me a hamburger for dinner to make me feel less homesick. She could have fixed me freaking grits or a baloney sandwich or anything, just knowing that she had gone out of her way to fix something she’d never made before to make me feel better and more at home absolutely FILLED me with warmth and goodness. This is a good woman I’m living with. She has a wonderful heart. And now whenever she can tell I’ve had a hard day, or when I just get back from a long trip, she fixes me hamburgers. :) It makes me extraordinarily happy. As in, incandescently happy. Her desire for me to be happy is palpable, and she does a good job.

So anyways, orientation was pretty cool. We got to do a little guided sightseeing of the city, which was nice, but I’ll definitely have to go back to all the places we went now that I actually have a good feeling for the city. We walked up through the Albaycín, a beautiful neighborhood of whitewashed buildings on the sister hill of the one the Alhambra is on. At the top, there was a gorgeous viewpoint of the Alhambra which we took some pictures at—I’ll try to add a picture to this post if I remember. While we were at the viewpoint, two guitarists and a singer sat down at the foot of this really tall cross and started playing traditional Spanish music. Dare I say Flamenco? I’m taking a class about Flamenco music, but I’m still not sure where the line is drawn between Flamenco and other traditional styles. Anyways, it was BEAUTIFUL. Just la guitarra, las palmas, y la voz. ENCHANTING. That’s when I really started falling in love with Granada, I think—at the top of the Albaycín, looking at the Alhambra and the Sierra Nevadas in the distance, listening to this incredible music—and there was even an ADORABLE PUPPY rolling around on the ground near the musicians!!!! Can you imagine how high in the sky I was in that moment?! REALLY HIGH.

We also went to the Alhambra as a group. For those of you who don’t know, haven’t looked it up, or I haven’t already explained it to, the Alhambra is the old Moorish city/palace/fortress on the hilltop overlooking Granada that was the last Moorish stronghold during the Christian Reconquista of Spain. It is absolutely decadent. The architecture, the gardens, the rooms upon rooms, the maze that is the cellar, the fact that there are MULTIPLE palaces, as well as a summer house for when they got bored of their normal palaces—GEEZ. It’s awesome. I took lots of pictures which are on facebook, and you can also google image search it and gawk your heart out. Or come visit me and we can go see it together!! Haha!

The first few times I walked alone to the school and back home, I was a little nervous, but now I have an established route, as well as variations if I feel like switching things up. I love my normal route because I get to walk next to a river for awhile. The river is different every day—it was tumultuous and muddy the first few days we were here, then it kind of calmed down and grew smaller and more tranquil for awhile, and now that the rain is back, it’s muddy and rushing again. I love that there is a river to walk next to, I feel like that is so good for me, being the water baby I am. Sometimes there are geese on some of the little sandbars in the river, and sometimes they’re all tucked into themselves, asleep. It is super cute, and I keep meaning to take my camera to school so I can take a picture of them.

I feel like I’m being really random. I hope that doesn’t bother anyone. I’m just writing things as they come to my mind, and I know you probably have tons of questions and are frustrated with all my bouncing around, but give a girl a break, I just finished being sick and doing my first week of school! :P Speaking of school! I tested into the higher level, yeah I know, no surprise, but I was still nervous, yeah, also no surprise. I am taking the following classes: Monday and Wednesday I have Spanish Civilization and Culture, English/Spanish Translation, and Flamenco and Traditional Spanish Music; Tuesday and Thursday I have Comparative Study of Spanish Literature and the Visual Arts and Spanish Written and Oral Expression. I also have a few sort of quarter credit classes—Phonetics, Tutorias (still not sure what this is), and Granada Seminar (in which we will learn about specific cultural stuff, like Flamenco, bullfights, olive oil, wine, etc.). All of my classes seem great so far, and I like the looks of all of my teachers. I think most of our grades will be based on in-class work, participation, and the two tests we’ll have over the course of the semester. Sounds manageable! And, if you notice, I have no classes on Fridays. Yay! Three day weekends ALL the time! Which means more travelling, I hope! I really want to explore Spain—Barcelona, Madrid, Toledo, Bilbao, Sevilla, etc—as well as the rest of Europe. I know it’s ambitious, but I have faith that I can stretch my moneys and make it happen. Besides, there are only a few places I absolutely HAVE to go, and then everything else is gravy.

Alright, it’s time for me to get some sleep (I am writing this at home and will post it later), so I will have to sign off for now. If you have made it this far reading everything I’ve written, geez, good job! Keep up the good work! I promise I wont always write so much and so often, but it’s been really nice to get this all down, even if it is a jumbled mess. Better a jumbled mess in a blog than in my head. :) I miss you guys a lot, and I hope your lives are as rewarding and invigorating as mine has been of late, but with a little less illness. ;)

Love, and pura vida,
Kelsey