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
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 14, 2010
Friday, April 2, 2010
La Belle France!
Bonjour a tous!
I just got back from visiting friends in Nantes and Paris, France, and although I am happy to be home in Granada, I had the MOST wonderful time in France. I think that going back to France for Spring Break may have been the best idea I’ve had so far this year.
I took a bus to Madrid, and flew from there to Paris, where I had lunch with Kristin (who lived in the same town as me in Costa Rica) and her friend before hopping on a train to Nantes to be with Nora for the weekend. As soon as I got off the plane in Paris, I felt incredibly comfortable and at home, which surprised me, because I am completely unfamiliar with Paris and Nantes. However, all little cafés, the wrought-iron balconies, and of course, all the French being spoken felt SO much like Aix to me. And as much as I may have kind of struggled through my semester in Aix, it WAS home for four months, and I must say, my French is a LOT better than I thought it was. This is something I would never hear myself say, but I can express myself pretty darn well in French! So that was exciting to realize. :)
I had a fantastic weekend in Nantes with Nora. On Friday and Saturday nights, Nora sang in a choir concert, which was absolutely lovely and I adored. I LOVE concerts like that—mostly unaccompanied group singing in beautiful churches—and I discovered that it’s particularly beautiful in French… maybe it’s just that I can appreciate the phrasing and how delicate the language sounds, but I can also understand (for the most part) the meaning of the song. Anyways, it was a great way to spend those two evenings. During the day on Saturday, Nora and I explored the castle and the cathedral, both of which are awesome, but the cathedral in particular was breathtaking and moving.
Can I pause for a moment and say how hard it is to express myself in English nowadays??? It sounds so awkward, and I only have a few sentence constructions that come easily to mind, which makes my writing sound elementary and repetitive. Egad. Boy am I glad I don’t have to write my thesis in English, what a disaster THAT would be. :P
Anyways, I also got to meet a few of Nora’s friends in Nantes, and they were all SO wonderful and fun; I didn’t want to leave, I was having such a great time. On Sunday, we had lunch with Nora’s host mom and then two of Nora’s friends joined us for dessert and a game of Trivial Pursuit, which was definitely an adventure. I most certainly did not win, but I DID learn that Robinson Crusoe was stuck on his island for over 28 years.
Also, Sunday was apparently a holiday or festival in honor of the camellia, Nantes’ special flower, of which is has upwards to 500 varieties (or something crazy like that). Nora and I took a lovely stroll through the Jardin des Plantes and enjoyed watching these funky, big-footed birds chase each other around the daffodils and camellias. It was a really great weekend, all in all, and I was sad to leave on Monday morning; I couldn’t imagine Paris being fun after such a lovely city such as Nantes.
As soon as I got to my hostel and met up with my friend, Elisa, however, I realized how wrong I’d been. I had SUCH a blast in Paris!! Our hostel was in Montmartre, the old artistic/bohemian hill neighborhood in the northern part of Paris. We walked a few blocks south and found the Moulin Rouge; a few blocks north and we were at Sacré Coeur. Elisa and I didn’t have any plans for that first day, but by the end of it, we’d seen actually quite a lot of Paris: the Moulin Rouge, Sacré Coeur and a gorgeous view of the city, the Louvre (although it’s impossible to ever say you’ve “seen” the Louvre after only one day), Place de la Concorde (where people were beheaded during the revolution; also home to the Obelisk), Jardin des Touileries, the Champs-Elysées and L’Arc de Triomphe, and to finish off a fabulous day, a picnic dinner under the Eiffel Tower, which sparkled every hour. By the end of this first day, I was absolutely enamored with the city. The atmosphere, the history, the winding sidestreets and wide boulevards, the petits cafés and thousands of bouquinistes (used bookstores)—it’s hard to believe that Paris is real, it is truly SO magical.
The second day, we got up at 7 am so we could get an early start to a busy day. First, we went to Cimitière Père Lachaise, the cemetery where a lot of very famous people are buried, including Jim Morrisson and Oscar Wilde. Of course, I insisted on kissing Oscar’s Tomb, even though I think Elisa thought I was bonkers. I have photographic proof of my kiss, which, I am happy to say, left a mark! Thank god I always travel with red lipstick, just in case…
Next, we went across town to see the Catacombs, which were eerie, barely lighted, and damp. It was super creepy, but also very very cool and interesting. Inside the catacombs, there are a lot of plaques with quotes related to death, and I had fun trying to translate for Elisa. After the catacombs, we walked up towards the Latin Quarter, passing through the Luxembourg Gardens to get there. We peeked at La Sorbonne and wandered the streets enjoying the ambiance before grabbing a couple sandwiches and tartelettes and installing ourselves in front of Notre Dame on l’île de la Cité to eat our lunch. The pigeons were super aggressive, and often very gross-looking, too, but we enjoyed ourselves nonetheless. I adore Notre Dame, especially her backside, so we walked all the way around before continuing to our next destination—the Bastille. To get there, we walked along the Quai d’Orleans on the Île St. Louis, then up a lovely boulevard that lead right to the Bastille. It’s a very impressive monument, but beside it is something quite funny—the Opera Bastille, which was built rather recently and has been criticized for looking too modern, and is nicknames the Toilet because it looks a lot like the public bathrooms you can find on Parisian streetcorners. After those adventures, we took a little break before meeting up with Kristin for another Eiffel Tower picnic dinner.
My third day in Paris was the most peaceful, mostly due to the fact that I was on my own for much of the day and spent much of it in museums. I started off in the Latin Quarter again because I loved it so much, then went to the Musée Rodin followed by the Musée d’Orsay. These were by far my favorite museums in Europe so far. Rodin is my favorite sculptor, and his museum was very well done, as were the gardens surrounding it filled with copies of his most famous works. I remember the Rodin exhibit that came to the Bellingham Museum a few years ago, and I have to say, I am really impressed with how good of an exhibit that was. The Musée d’Orsay was fantastic as well—if you know anything of my taste in art, you know how much I adore impressionism, and so this museum was heaven for me. I wrote down the names of artists I saw and liked there of all different styles, so go look these guys up: Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Henri-Edmund Cross (pointillisme), Renoir, Pissarro, Degas, Manet, Van Gogh, Gauguin, Alfred Sisley, Monet, and Georges Seurat. Wandering through these two museums was a wonderful way to spend the majority of my last day in Paris. I spent the afternoon and early evening back in Montmartre enjoying the neighborhood, had a simple dinner at an adorable bistrot, and then met up with Kristin and her roommate to go out for a drink. We went to a little Irish pub near their apartment, and it was pretty deserted, but we got to meet an adorable little doggy, which really made my Parisian experience complete. :)
The trip back was a little miserable—I had to get up at 4 am and didn’t get home to Granada until about 6 pm or so, but I was able to sleep a bit on the bus from Madrid to Granada, so it was alright. I arrived in the midst of Semana Santa celebrations, which I will have to blog about later, but oh boy, it is CRAZY here in Granada—so many people!!
Hasta pronto, besitos a todos,
Kelsey
I just got back from visiting friends in Nantes and Paris, France, and although I am happy to be home in Granada, I had the MOST wonderful time in France. I think that going back to France for Spring Break may have been the best idea I’ve had so far this year.
I took a bus to Madrid, and flew from there to Paris, where I had lunch with Kristin (who lived in the same town as me in Costa Rica) and her friend before hopping on a train to Nantes to be with Nora for the weekend. As soon as I got off the plane in Paris, I felt incredibly comfortable and at home, which surprised me, because I am completely unfamiliar with Paris and Nantes. However, all little cafés, the wrought-iron balconies, and of course, all the French being spoken felt SO much like Aix to me. And as much as I may have kind of struggled through my semester in Aix, it WAS home for four months, and I must say, my French is a LOT better than I thought it was. This is something I would never hear myself say, but I can express myself pretty darn well in French! So that was exciting to realize. :)
I had a fantastic weekend in Nantes with Nora. On Friday and Saturday nights, Nora sang in a choir concert, which was absolutely lovely and I adored. I LOVE concerts like that—mostly unaccompanied group singing in beautiful churches—and I discovered that it’s particularly beautiful in French… maybe it’s just that I can appreciate the phrasing and how delicate the language sounds, but I can also understand (for the most part) the meaning of the song. Anyways, it was a great way to spend those two evenings. During the day on Saturday, Nora and I explored the castle and the cathedral, both of which are awesome, but the cathedral in particular was breathtaking and moving.
Can I pause for a moment and say how hard it is to express myself in English nowadays??? It sounds so awkward, and I only have a few sentence constructions that come easily to mind, which makes my writing sound elementary and repetitive. Egad. Boy am I glad I don’t have to write my thesis in English, what a disaster THAT would be. :P
Anyways, I also got to meet a few of Nora’s friends in Nantes, and they were all SO wonderful and fun; I didn’t want to leave, I was having such a great time. On Sunday, we had lunch with Nora’s host mom and then two of Nora’s friends joined us for dessert and a game of Trivial Pursuit, which was definitely an adventure. I most certainly did not win, but I DID learn that Robinson Crusoe was stuck on his island for over 28 years.
Also, Sunday was apparently a holiday or festival in honor of the camellia, Nantes’ special flower, of which is has upwards to 500 varieties (or something crazy like that). Nora and I took a lovely stroll through the Jardin des Plantes and enjoyed watching these funky, big-footed birds chase each other around the daffodils and camellias. It was a really great weekend, all in all, and I was sad to leave on Monday morning; I couldn’t imagine Paris being fun after such a lovely city such as Nantes.
As soon as I got to my hostel and met up with my friend, Elisa, however, I realized how wrong I’d been. I had SUCH a blast in Paris!! Our hostel was in Montmartre, the old artistic/bohemian hill neighborhood in the northern part of Paris. We walked a few blocks south and found the Moulin Rouge; a few blocks north and we were at Sacré Coeur. Elisa and I didn’t have any plans for that first day, but by the end of it, we’d seen actually quite a lot of Paris: the Moulin Rouge, Sacré Coeur and a gorgeous view of the city, the Louvre (although it’s impossible to ever say you’ve “seen” the Louvre after only one day), Place de la Concorde (where people were beheaded during the revolution; also home to the Obelisk), Jardin des Touileries, the Champs-Elysées and L’Arc de Triomphe, and to finish off a fabulous day, a picnic dinner under the Eiffel Tower, which sparkled every hour. By the end of this first day, I was absolutely enamored with the city. The atmosphere, the history, the winding sidestreets and wide boulevards, the petits cafés and thousands of bouquinistes (used bookstores)—it’s hard to believe that Paris is real, it is truly SO magical.
The second day, we got up at 7 am so we could get an early start to a busy day. First, we went to Cimitière Père Lachaise, the cemetery where a lot of very famous people are buried, including Jim Morrisson and Oscar Wilde. Of course, I insisted on kissing Oscar’s Tomb, even though I think Elisa thought I was bonkers. I have photographic proof of my kiss, which, I am happy to say, left a mark! Thank god I always travel with red lipstick, just in case…
Next, we went across town to see the Catacombs, which were eerie, barely lighted, and damp. It was super creepy, but also very very cool and interesting. Inside the catacombs, there are a lot of plaques with quotes related to death, and I had fun trying to translate for Elisa. After the catacombs, we walked up towards the Latin Quarter, passing through the Luxembourg Gardens to get there. We peeked at La Sorbonne and wandered the streets enjoying the ambiance before grabbing a couple sandwiches and tartelettes and installing ourselves in front of Notre Dame on l’île de la Cité to eat our lunch. The pigeons were super aggressive, and often very gross-looking, too, but we enjoyed ourselves nonetheless. I adore Notre Dame, especially her backside, so we walked all the way around before continuing to our next destination—the Bastille. To get there, we walked along the Quai d’Orleans on the Île St. Louis, then up a lovely boulevard that lead right to the Bastille. It’s a very impressive monument, but beside it is something quite funny—the Opera Bastille, which was built rather recently and has been criticized for looking too modern, and is nicknames the Toilet because it looks a lot like the public bathrooms you can find on Parisian streetcorners. After those adventures, we took a little break before meeting up with Kristin for another Eiffel Tower picnic dinner.
My third day in Paris was the most peaceful, mostly due to the fact that I was on my own for much of the day and spent much of it in museums. I started off in the Latin Quarter again because I loved it so much, then went to the Musée Rodin followed by the Musée d’Orsay. These were by far my favorite museums in Europe so far. Rodin is my favorite sculptor, and his museum was very well done, as were the gardens surrounding it filled with copies of his most famous works. I remember the Rodin exhibit that came to the Bellingham Museum a few years ago, and I have to say, I am really impressed with how good of an exhibit that was. The Musée d’Orsay was fantastic as well—if you know anything of my taste in art, you know how much I adore impressionism, and so this museum was heaven for me. I wrote down the names of artists I saw and liked there of all different styles, so go look these guys up: Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec, Henri-Edmund Cross (pointillisme), Renoir, Pissarro, Degas, Manet, Van Gogh, Gauguin, Alfred Sisley, Monet, and Georges Seurat. Wandering through these two museums was a wonderful way to spend the majority of my last day in Paris. I spent the afternoon and early evening back in Montmartre enjoying the neighborhood, had a simple dinner at an adorable bistrot, and then met up with Kristin and her roommate to go out for a drink. We went to a little Irish pub near their apartment, and it was pretty deserted, but we got to meet an adorable little doggy, which really made my Parisian experience complete. :)
The trip back was a little miserable—I had to get up at 4 am and didn’t get home to Granada until about 6 pm or so, but I was able to sleep a bit on the bus from Madrid to Granada, so it was alright. I arrived in the midst of Semana Santa celebrations, which I will have to blog about later, but oh boy, it is CRAZY here in Granada—so many people!!
Hasta pronto, besitos a todos,
Kelsey
Monday, March 1, 2010
Granada and Toledo with NORA!!
Wow, how is it already March?! That seems impossible! I can’t believe how fast time is passing here!
I just got done with one of the most exciting, fun, and stressful weeks I’ve had here. Nora, my really great friend from Scripps who is studying abroad in France right now, came to visit me from Tuesday to Friday, and then we went to Toledo together for the weekend. We stayed in a hostel together during the week while I ran back and forth between classes and sightseeing with her, and it was sooo much fun, but also incredibly busy. We had fun exploring the different neighborhoods of Granada, sipping tea at a Tetería, eating greasy churros con chocolate, and all the fun touristy stuff I don’t really get to do on a regular basis. We were lucky to have great weather while Nora was here as well—I think it only sprinkled once or twice the entire time. On Thursday, we had lunch with Concha, and unfortunately Nora got sick, so our plans for the afternoon kind of went out the window. It happened to be the birthday of one of my best friend’s here, Katie, and as much I wanted to stay in and be with Nora, she reasoned that there wasn’t anything I could do for her anyways, so I went out for a bit to wish Katie a happy birthday. It was actually really fun to hang out with my new friends, but I was worrying about Nora the whole time, so I guess it was a mixed fun and not so fun night.
On Friday we traveled to Toledo, which was really quite a journey! The bus from Granada to Madrid takes about 5 hours, with a stop in the middle for food/coffee/bathrooms. It was a beautiful ride from what I could tell—I was asleep for much of it—but my booty certainly didn’t appreciate sitting for that long! Then, we took another bus from Madrid to Toledo, and a taxi to our hotel. Both Nora and I were pretty exhausted and feeling under the weather, so we stayed in Friday night and just chatted, watched part of a weird movie on the TV, and went to bed. Saturday was our one full day in Toledo, and I actually feel like we managed to see a lot of the city in only that one day. Toledo is a lovely, well-preserved old city with tiny labyrinth-like streets and a lot of awesome artwork and historical buildings/museums. I was so excited to get to see a lot of work by El Greco, not only because he was a great and important artist, but also because we just studied a few of his pieces in my Art/Lit class!! And the few that we studied were all in Toledo, and I saw them!!! It was so cool to be able to tell Nora what my teacher had told me about the shapes, colors, themes, etc. It was super fun. We also went to a Jewish museum that is in an old Synagogue, and that was both beautiful and really informative. It had a few really lovely courtyards, too, which we took advantage of for little recuperation breaks (Nora was still not feeling very well, and my arm was bothering me for some reason).
On Sunday, we woke up early to get back to Madrid in time for Nora’s flight, and for me to get a bus back to Granada. I met this really nice lady in the bus station in Madrid while waiting for my bus home, and we talked for a good 20 minutes. I like random nice people.
Once I got home to Granada, I took a quick shower and then went out for coffee and a snack with my friend, Katie, which was super fun bonding time. :) That night, we also went out with two other friends, who I absolutely adore, and it was so nice to just hang out with these wonderful people. OH, guys, by the way, one of my new friends here, Luis, CAN DANCE. AND LIKES TO DANCE. WITH ME. It’s maybe the best thing ever. I have missed dancing SO. MUCH. I have missed dancing with a good lead on a regular basis more than I thought I had. And yeah, ok, it’s not exactly like we’re waltzing around the bar (ha.ha.) but he knows salsa and merengue and, um, just how to move his hips. Haha. I know my dancers out there are all rejoicing on my behalf—thanks, guys! Anyways, I hope we end up being good friends so I don’t have to be creepy and stalk him and force him to dance with me. :P
Yesterday was Día de Andalucía—basically a day celebrating the region—so we had the day off of school today! Yay! It was great, I did homework all day. :P No, but really, I needed to catch up on my homework, so it actually was a good thing we had the day off. Tomorrow, it’s back to life as usual, and I’m not unhappy about that. I loved traveling and being a tourist and hanging out with Nora, but I’ll be glad to be back to my normal schedule, and to have some down time again this week.
Oof, time to get back to my reading! Love you all!
Pura Vida,
Kelsey
I just got done with one of the most exciting, fun, and stressful weeks I’ve had here. Nora, my really great friend from Scripps who is studying abroad in France right now, came to visit me from Tuesday to Friday, and then we went to Toledo together for the weekend. We stayed in a hostel together during the week while I ran back and forth between classes and sightseeing with her, and it was sooo much fun, but also incredibly busy. We had fun exploring the different neighborhoods of Granada, sipping tea at a Tetería, eating greasy churros con chocolate, and all the fun touristy stuff I don’t really get to do on a regular basis. We were lucky to have great weather while Nora was here as well—I think it only sprinkled once or twice the entire time. On Thursday, we had lunch with Concha, and unfortunately Nora got sick, so our plans for the afternoon kind of went out the window. It happened to be the birthday of one of my best friend’s here, Katie, and as much I wanted to stay in and be with Nora, she reasoned that there wasn’t anything I could do for her anyways, so I went out for a bit to wish Katie a happy birthday. It was actually really fun to hang out with my new friends, but I was worrying about Nora the whole time, so I guess it was a mixed fun and not so fun night.
On Friday we traveled to Toledo, which was really quite a journey! The bus from Granada to Madrid takes about 5 hours, with a stop in the middle for food/coffee/bathrooms. It was a beautiful ride from what I could tell—I was asleep for much of it—but my booty certainly didn’t appreciate sitting for that long! Then, we took another bus from Madrid to Toledo, and a taxi to our hotel. Both Nora and I were pretty exhausted and feeling under the weather, so we stayed in Friday night and just chatted, watched part of a weird movie on the TV, and went to bed. Saturday was our one full day in Toledo, and I actually feel like we managed to see a lot of the city in only that one day. Toledo is a lovely, well-preserved old city with tiny labyrinth-like streets and a lot of awesome artwork and historical buildings/museums. I was so excited to get to see a lot of work by El Greco, not only because he was a great and important artist, but also because we just studied a few of his pieces in my Art/Lit class!! And the few that we studied were all in Toledo, and I saw them!!! It was so cool to be able to tell Nora what my teacher had told me about the shapes, colors, themes, etc. It was super fun. We also went to a Jewish museum that is in an old Synagogue, and that was both beautiful and really informative. It had a few really lovely courtyards, too, which we took advantage of for little recuperation breaks (Nora was still not feeling very well, and my arm was bothering me for some reason).
On Sunday, we woke up early to get back to Madrid in time for Nora’s flight, and for me to get a bus back to Granada. I met this really nice lady in the bus station in Madrid while waiting for my bus home, and we talked for a good 20 minutes. I like random nice people.
Once I got home to Granada, I took a quick shower and then went out for coffee and a snack with my friend, Katie, which was super fun bonding time. :) That night, we also went out with two other friends, who I absolutely adore, and it was so nice to just hang out with these wonderful people. OH, guys, by the way, one of my new friends here, Luis, CAN DANCE. AND LIKES TO DANCE. WITH ME. It’s maybe the best thing ever. I have missed dancing SO. MUCH. I have missed dancing with a good lead on a regular basis more than I thought I had. And yeah, ok, it’s not exactly like we’re waltzing around the bar (ha.ha.) but he knows salsa and merengue and, um, just how to move his hips. Haha. I know my dancers out there are all rejoicing on my behalf—thanks, guys! Anyways, I hope we end up being good friends so I don’t have to be creepy and stalk him and force him to dance with me. :P
Yesterday was Día de Andalucía—basically a day celebrating the region—so we had the day off of school today! Yay! It was great, I did homework all day. :P No, but really, I needed to catch up on my homework, so it actually was a good thing we had the day off. Tomorrow, it’s back to life as usual, and I’m not unhappy about that. I loved traveling and being a tourist and hanging out with Nora, but I’ll be glad to be back to my normal schedule, and to have some down time again this week.
Oof, time to get back to my reading! Love you all!
Pura Vida,
Kelsey
Tuesday, February 16, 2010
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
Sunday, February 14, 2010
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
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
Friday, February 12, 2010
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
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
Venice and Carnivale!!
Hola otra vez! First week of classes for me is over, and everything is going well! But before we get to that stuff, let’s tackle Italy, shall we?
OH, I almost forgot to mention something from Morocco that I left out of the last blog—the Hammam. A Hammam is basically a public bathhouse where many Moroccan’s go to about once a week to get reallllly clean. The way Sarah (our guide) explained the Hammam experience is that it’s “like taking a bucket bath in a sauna.” Which is pretty much exactly right. A lot of people were pretty nervous about it, and some didn’t even go, but because I’ve done public baths before (thank you, Japan!) and I was really jonesin’ to get clean, I was very eager to go see what this Hammam thing was. It seemed a bit like a pool in the sense that there are changing rooms where you get nekid (or put on a bathing suit or underwear if you’re modest, which none of the Moroccan’s did—I left on my panties so as not to traumatize my more sheltered peers, but definitely went topless—imagine trying to get clean while still wearing a bra, it sounds annoying, right?). Then, you take your towel, your little scooper cup, a scrubby glove they gave us and this special Hammam soap, and go into the washing room. That room is warm and steamy and very slippery. You take a big bucket and fill it with water, then stake out a corner and get down with your bad self. Haha. The special Hammam soap smelled kind of weird, but it got me cleaner than I think I’ve ever been in my life—it must have special exfoliating stuff, plus special moisturizing stuff, because I felt all happy and clean and soft afterwards, and not TOO much like I’d just scrubbed off the top five layers of my skin. It got pretty packed in there because we were a rather large group of Americans, plus our Moroccan helpers, plus normal Moroccans who looked seriously peeved to have their weekly cleaning ritual interrupted by these weird, bathing-suit-clad foreigners. (PS. We went to a women’s Hammam—yes, there are also ones for guys, gentlemen.) I was very glad we got to go to the Hammam, because it seems like it’s a pretty unique and fascinating part of their culture, and I was also extraordinarily grateful for the opportunity to get seriously clean—and I DID feel like I stayed clean for the next two showerless days. Hallelujah!
Alright, vamos a Italia! Directly after getting back from Morocco—and I mean RIGHT away, as in, about ten hours later—I hopped on a bus, a bus, another bus, a plane, yet another bus, a train, another train, and then one final bus to get to our hostel in Venice, Italy. It was an epic voyage of over 13 hours, no joke. Happily, our transportation costs were minimal, but even so, next time I might splurge and cut out a few of the buses or something. The first night we arrived in Venice at around seven or eight, so we decided to go into town for dinner and a night walk through the water city, and it was absolutely magical. I tried to take a few pictures, but they weren’t turning out so I just put the camera away and enjoyed it. Venice at night is… like being in a dream world. The water is a beautiful deep blue-green, and it almost shimmers. (I bet the canals are actually really nasty, but they look pretty!) I felt like we were going to turn a corner and suddenly be in 15th century Venice, walking shoulder to shoulder with people straight out of history, or maybe fairy tales… or maybe my dreams.
The next day, we spent all day just walking around the city, popping into little tourist shops and mask shops, and getting lost and finding our way back to familiar turf. I think the entire time we were in Venice we consulted our map maybe three times, because honestly, it’s more fun not to. I have to say, I probably spent too much money on little glass trinkets (a little family of glass crabs? Yes, please!), but I also have to say, WORTH IT. I’m not a huge souvenir person, so I know when I like something, and I know what I’m willing to spend my money on. Plus, I saved on food. That’s coming up. Anyways, that whole day was fantastic, and by the end of it, we had seen pretty much each touristy sight in Venice plus quite a bit of the more backstreet, residential areas. I was proud. Tired, but proud. (OH, and we definitely had gelato every single day. Pistachio, tiramisu, lemon, chocolate, nutella, berry, etc…) We went back to our hotel satisfied and conked out.
Circa 5 am, I woke up with violent stomach pain. It literally felt like my stomach was on fire, and it was also distended. I tried to just drink some water and go back to sleep, but no dice. Long story short, I threw up three times before Darynn, the girl I was travelling with, woke up at around 10am. She was really kind and went out and bought me saltines, iced tea, and sprite, but I still threw up one more time around noon before my stomach decided to calm down and cooperate. I was really weak and feverish for the rest of the day, and I couldn’t lie on my sides without significant abdominal pain. I definitely didn’t eat anything other than saltines for the rest of the day, but my stomach was still way bigger than normal and painful.
The next day, we went out during the afternoon and evening, because it was Saturday and the opening day of Carnivale. I struggled a lot and had to take a lot of sit-down-and-clutch-my-huge-stomach moments, but I still really enjoyed myself somehow. My mom says I must have been delirious, and I think I have to agree. I didn’t eat any solid food that day either, but I did have some yummy minestrone soup broth for dinner! And after dinner was the opening show of Carnivale on Piazza San Marco!! I wore my mask—bought in a backstreet artisan shop where we saw the dude making masks in the back room—and we joined the crowds of excited tourists. There were a LOT of French people there, and this one really sweet old French guy who was there with his wife gave me some gummy bears to help my throat because I got a really bad cough about halfway through the show. (I think it was the smoke—everyone smokes like a chimney in Europe—ok not everyone, but you know.) I was so happy I could thank him sincerely in his own language.
Oh man, let’s talk about language confusion in Italy. I kept being like, “Quiero, uh, chocolate, I mean, chocolato, et, euh, limon, umm, limone? Merci—uh, I mean, Grazie. SHIT.” My brain literally wanted to explode sometimes. Everything was allllmost Spanish, but then again some things were more like French…. but the pronunciation and the tone seemed almost completely foreign, and incredibly intoxicating. I wished so much that I spoke Italian, but each time I tried, I think I failed miserably. But then once I got back to Spain I was saying “Scuzi” and “Grazie” for a whole day before I got back into Spanish, so maybe I have an aptitude for Italian? Maybe I’m lying to myself. :P
Anyways, our last day was probably the most exciting of all, even though we only had half the day to spend in Venice. Carnivale was really getting into swing, and we saw two parades, both of which I didn’t really understand but thought were awesome. We also spent some time just hanging around San Marco taking pictures of all the crazy awesome costumes people were wearing. After awhile, I kind of stopped taking pictures and just enjoyed the experience of being transported to a different era by all the activity and the masks and extravagant clothing. It was really a once in a lifetime experience, I think, and it completely made me forget about my awkward stomach, which I very much appreciated.
I cheated and bought two masks. Ha! I was like, shoot, I can’t buy anything REALLY big and cool because I have to take it back in my tiny book bag, and ryanair won’t let me have anything outside of that bag. So I picked a simple one out that I really like—you’ll see it in some of my pictures, it’s magenta and gold and really lovely, I think. THEN, I found a blue-green one that was a little smaller but really brought out the color in my eyes and that I just adored and it wasn’t THAT expensive, so I said, why not? And I’m really glad I did. I think there’s no better souvenir from Carnivale in Venice than real, beautiful masks, and I’m for sure going to hang them on the wall in my apartment when I decorate this summer. (I bet some of you are going, what is this apartment she keeps mentioning?! Surprise! I’m flying solo this summer and I’ll have a place of my own in the Ham! Yay!)
The trip back to Granada wasn’t quite as grueling because we took the train to Bergamo on Sunday night and spent the night in a hostel before our 6:30am flight back to Sevilla on Monday morning. I also found it helpful that they played a dubbed version of that movie with Ashton Kutcher (where he goes to visit his black girlfriend’s family and her dad give him hell) on the bus from Sevilla to Granada—what was the name of that movie? Anyways, it’s really hilarious when it’s in enthusiastic Spanish and you’re delirious from lack of sleep and food. :P
Wow! I’m very proud; I was super concise about Venice. I hope I didn’t forget anything. Oh! I just found something I jotted down in my notebook while in Venice and think would make a good little conclusion to this post:
“Venice is so magical, and I feel so good and at ease here. I’m glad we came; I can’t imagine a better place to be right now. It’s weird to think of going back to life in Granada after being in Morocco and Venice. What an intense week of experiences and LIVING—what pure, unadulterated life. Thank you, universe, for restoring my sense of wonder and gratitude, and for giving me these beautiful experiences which remind me of two things I’d forgotten—-hope and joy.”
Pura vida, queridos.
Kelsey
OH, I almost forgot to mention something from Morocco that I left out of the last blog—the Hammam. A Hammam is basically a public bathhouse where many Moroccan’s go to about once a week to get reallllly clean. The way Sarah (our guide) explained the Hammam experience is that it’s “like taking a bucket bath in a sauna.” Which is pretty much exactly right. A lot of people were pretty nervous about it, and some didn’t even go, but because I’ve done public baths before (thank you, Japan!) and I was really jonesin’ to get clean, I was very eager to go see what this Hammam thing was. It seemed a bit like a pool in the sense that there are changing rooms where you get nekid (or put on a bathing suit or underwear if you’re modest, which none of the Moroccan’s did—I left on my panties so as not to traumatize my more sheltered peers, but definitely went topless—imagine trying to get clean while still wearing a bra, it sounds annoying, right?). Then, you take your towel, your little scooper cup, a scrubby glove they gave us and this special Hammam soap, and go into the washing room. That room is warm and steamy and very slippery. You take a big bucket and fill it with water, then stake out a corner and get down with your bad self. Haha. The special Hammam soap smelled kind of weird, but it got me cleaner than I think I’ve ever been in my life—it must have special exfoliating stuff, plus special moisturizing stuff, because I felt all happy and clean and soft afterwards, and not TOO much like I’d just scrubbed off the top five layers of my skin. It got pretty packed in there because we were a rather large group of Americans, plus our Moroccan helpers, plus normal Moroccans who looked seriously peeved to have their weekly cleaning ritual interrupted by these weird, bathing-suit-clad foreigners. (PS. We went to a women’s Hammam—yes, there are also ones for guys, gentlemen.) I was very glad we got to go to the Hammam, because it seems like it’s a pretty unique and fascinating part of their culture, and I was also extraordinarily grateful for the opportunity to get seriously clean—and I DID feel like I stayed clean for the next two showerless days. Hallelujah!
Alright, vamos a Italia! Directly after getting back from Morocco—and I mean RIGHT away, as in, about ten hours later—I hopped on a bus, a bus, another bus, a plane, yet another bus, a train, another train, and then one final bus to get to our hostel in Venice, Italy. It was an epic voyage of over 13 hours, no joke. Happily, our transportation costs were minimal, but even so, next time I might splurge and cut out a few of the buses or something. The first night we arrived in Venice at around seven or eight, so we decided to go into town for dinner and a night walk through the water city, and it was absolutely magical. I tried to take a few pictures, but they weren’t turning out so I just put the camera away and enjoyed it. Venice at night is… like being in a dream world. The water is a beautiful deep blue-green, and it almost shimmers. (I bet the canals are actually really nasty, but they look pretty!) I felt like we were going to turn a corner and suddenly be in 15th century Venice, walking shoulder to shoulder with people straight out of history, or maybe fairy tales… or maybe my dreams.
The next day, we spent all day just walking around the city, popping into little tourist shops and mask shops, and getting lost and finding our way back to familiar turf. I think the entire time we were in Venice we consulted our map maybe three times, because honestly, it’s more fun not to. I have to say, I probably spent too much money on little glass trinkets (a little family of glass crabs? Yes, please!), but I also have to say, WORTH IT. I’m not a huge souvenir person, so I know when I like something, and I know what I’m willing to spend my money on. Plus, I saved on food. That’s coming up. Anyways, that whole day was fantastic, and by the end of it, we had seen pretty much each touristy sight in Venice plus quite a bit of the more backstreet, residential areas. I was proud. Tired, but proud. (OH, and we definitely had gelato every single day. Pistachio, tiramisu, lemon, chocolate, nutella, berry, etc…) We went back to our hotel satisfied and conked out.
Circa 5 am, I woke up with violent stomach pain. It literally felt like my stomach was on fire, and it was also distended. I tried to just drink some water and go back to sleep, but no dice. Long story short, I threw up three times before Darynn, the girl I was travelling with, woke up at around 10am. She was really kind and went out and bought me saltines, iced tea, and sprite, but I still threw up one more time around noon before my stomach decided to calm down and cooperate. I was really weak and feverish for the rest of the day, and I couldn’t lie on my sides without significant abdominal pain. I definitely didn’t eat anything other than saltines for the rest of the day, but my stomach was still way bigger than normal and painful.
The next day, we went out during the afternoon and evening, because it was Saturday and the opening day of Carnivale. I struggled a lot and had to take a lot of sit-down-and-clutch-my-huge-stomach moments, but I still really enjoyed myself somehow. My mom says I must have been delirious, and I think I have to agree. I didn’t eat any solid food that day either, but I did have some yummy minestrone soup broth for dinner! And after dinner was the opening show of Carnivale on Piazza San Marco!! I wore my mask—bought in a backstreet artisan shop where we saw the dude making masks in the back room—and we joined the crowds of excited tourists. There were a LOT of French people there, and this one really sweet old French guy who was there with his wife gave me some gummy bears to help my throat because I got a really bad cough about halfway through the show. (I think it was the smoke—everyone smokes like a chimney in Europe—ok not everyone, but you know.) I was so happy I could thank him sincerely in his own language.
Oh man, let’s talk about language confusion in Italy. I kept being like, “Quiero, uh, chocolate, I mean, chocolato, et, euh, limon, umm, limone? Merci—uh, I mean, Grazie. SHIT.” My brain literally wanted to explode sometimes. Everything was allllmost Spanish, but then again some things were more like French…. but the pronunciation and the tone seemed almost completely foreign, and incredibly intoxicating. I wished so much that I spoke Italian, but each time I tried, I think I failed miserably. But then once I got back to Spain I was saying “Scuzi” and “Grazie” for a whole day before I got back into Spanish, so maybe I have an aptitude for Italian? Maybe I’m lying to myself. :P
Anyways, our last day was probably the most exciting of all, even though we only had half the day to spend in Venice. Carnivale was really getting into swing, and we saw two parades, both of which I didn’t really understand but thought were awesome. We also spent some time just hanging around San Marco taking pictures of all the crazy awesome costumes people were wearing. After awhile, I kind of stopped taking pictures and just enjoyed the experience of being transported to a different era by all the activity and the masks and extravagant clothing. It was really a once in a lifetime experience, I think, and it completely made me forget about my awkward stomach, which I very much appreciated.
I cheated and bought two masks. Ha! I was like, shoot, I can’t buy anything REALLY big and cool because I have to take it back in my tiny book bag, and ryanair won’t let me have anything outside of that bag. So I picked a simple one out that I really like—you’ll see it in some of my pictures, it’s magenta and gold and really lovely, I think. THEN, I found a blue-green one that was a little smaller but really brought out the color in my eyes and that I just adored and it wasn’t THAT expensive, so I said, why not? And I’m really glad I did. I think there’s no better souvenir from Carnivale in Venice than real, beautiful masks, and I’m for sure going to hang them on the wall in my apartment when I decorate this summer. (I bet some of you are going, what is this apartment she keeps mentioning?! Surprise! I’m flying solo this summer and I’ll have a place of my own in the Ham! Yay!)
The trip back to Granada wasn’t quite as grueling because we took the train to Bergamo on Sunday night and spent the night in a hostel before our 6:30am flight back to Sevilla on Monday morning. I also found it helpful that they played a dubbed version of that movie with Ashton Kutcher (where he goes to visit his black girlfriend’s family and her dad give him hell) on the bus from Sevilla to Granada—what was the name of that movie? Anyways, it’s really hilarious when it’s in enthusiastic Spanish and you’re delirious from lack of sleep and food. :P
Wow! I’m very proud; I was super concise about Venice. I hope I didn’t forget anything. Oh! I just found something I jotted down in my notebook while in Venice and think would make a good little conclusion to this post:
“Venice is so magical, and I feel so good and at ease here. I’m glad we came; I can’t imagine a better place to be right now. It’s weird to think of going back to life in Granada after being in Morocco and Venice. What an intense week of experiences and LIVING—what pure, unadulterated life. Thank you, universe, for restoring my sense of wonder and gratitude, and for giving me these beautiful experiences which remind me of two things I’d forgotten—-hope and joy.”
Pura vida, queridos.
Kelsey
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