It has been a hard week. Between blisters, registration for classes (que fracaso), illness, and all the consequences of these things… oh boy. Long. Week.
But let’s start with the fun part—Barcelona!!! This past weekend was spent very pleasantly in Barcelona, arguably Spain’s most international city alongside Madrid due to its proximity to France, and therefore Europe, as well as its size and appeal as a travel destination for foreigners. I adored the city, although I feel like it might have been a bit overwhelming to study abroad in because it’s so big, and also because many people prefer to speak the local co-official language, Catalán, as opposed to Spanish. In some ways, I could understand the Catalan better than my fellow travel companions because I speak French as well and some of the words were basically a mix of Spanish and French (exit = sortie (fr.) + salida (sp) = sortida!), but sometimes it was just bizarre and made me feel like my brain was melting. The fact that some of the buildings also appear to be melting only adds to the weird mental delirium! :P Antoni Gaudí was a modern artist around the turn of the 20th century who created much of what makes Barcelona so fascinating to me—he designed and built several awesome but bizarre houses (the melting ones, plus some that look like gingerbread houses from fairy tales), the Sagrada Familia Cathedral with its melting front and fruit bulbed turrets, and the Parque Güell, with rock tree formations, an undulating ceramic patchwork bench, and an adorable Salamander fountain. He was so cute I had to give him a kiss. :) The first day of our weekend was mostly spent running around the city to see these various buildings, and wandering through Parque Güell, where I bought a really beautiful swirly ring from a gypsy and the other girls got scarves, rings, and necklaces. In the afternoon, we wandered down Las Ramblas to the Market of the Boquería, a really lovely market where all the fruit, candy, dried fruit, and other products are displayed with such precision and organization that it seems almost a shame to buy anything and disrupt the displays! Every stand was like a posed painting, and the exotic nature of much of the fruit added to this impression. I bought a little fruit bowl for only a euro fifty for an afternoon snack, and feasted on the mango, watermelon, strawberries, coconut, cactus fruit, and honeydew quite happily. That evening, my friend did a really lovely decorative braid in my hair, which was super exciting for me because I am basically a tomboy at heart and can’t do a damned thing with my hair most of the time except pray that it behaves itself! :P This first night, we found an all-you-can-eat buffet with a gorgeous salad bar and yummy pizza and pasta and gorged ourselves. I think almost every single one of us six girls ate over three plates of food, and most of us regretted it after, but it was still a fantastic (and fun) meal.
Of course, being the bright, forward-thinking young ladies we are, we forgot that we had planned to have a beach day the next day, and now the prospect of displaying bulging bellies in our dainty bikinis didn’t seem quite so appealing. :P However, we held fast to our plan and made our way over to the coarse sand beaches the next day to enjoy the sunshine and a break from sightseeing. Only four of the six ended up staying all day, and I am happy to say that I was one of them! I am also VERY proud to say that I managed to avoid sunburn despite being under the sun the whole day—yay for sunscreen!! It was a wonderfully relaxing day, and a very much needed break from both the daily grind as well as the frantic sightseeing of the previous day. Unfortunately, I was a bit of a ditz and didn’t drink quite as much water as I should have; when we got up to go back to the hostel, I suddenly felt dizzy, nauseated, faint, and way overheated. Oopsies, heat exhaustion! I really should have known better, but I was lucky to have great friends with me to pulled me along through the metro and force fed me water until we got to the hostel, and then basically pushed me into a cold shower, after which I felt much better and was able to lay down for a few hours to regain some strength before dinner. Dinner tonight was much simpler and smaller—pizza at a little cafeteria next to the hostel, and then gourmet ice cream before girly chat time in our bedroom and to sleep.
Our last morning in Barcelona, we wandered the Gothic Quarter a bit and had a coffee next to the Gothic Cathedral before visiting the Chocolate museum, which was both charming and delicious—the ticket to get in was a chocolate bar!!! :) My favorite chocolate sculptures were the ones that reinacted scenes from the French comic Astérix and “Up!” I was super excited about the Up one in particular—it was so adorable!!!
Our voyage home was long but uneventful, other than the fact that I was now beginning to feel positively horrible—congested, exhausted, achy, with very sensitive skin—all sure signs that I’m coming down with something unpleasant. As I had predicted, I woke up Monday morning feeling miserable, and skipped my morning classes to be able to rest and try to get a bit better. Tuesday I also skipped my morning classes, and I am SO glad I did, because by Wednesday evening I was starting to feel better, and today I am all better except for a little residual congestion. Still, you all know how much I HATE being sick, so I was quite a grump at the beginning of the week.
To add to my grumpiness, I had registration for next semester’s classes on Tuesday at 4pm Pacific time… which is 1 am my time. As I do not have internet in my house and didn’t want to stay up, and wander out alone and sick at one in the morning to an internet café, I did something kind of maybe like having my parents register for me. Maybe. I mean, I would never do anything against Scripps rules like give my password out… but come on. No one would blame me if I had.
Anyways, the one class I NEED to complete my general education requirements is a Natural Sciences class. Of course, by the time my registration time came around, both the ones I had picked out as non-science-major classes that fit in my schedule were full. Haha. Ha. Ha. Ha. Yeah. I was not so happy about that. I suppose maybe karma is trying to save me up some good luck so that my plane doesn’t get stuck in volcanic ash on the way home, but still. It was just another blow to my mood during an already difficult week. Well, I wrote to the teacher of my preferred class, and I’m fairly sure he’ll let me in, but I still don’t enjoy the extra stress that registration added to my week. Happily, I got into my three other classes without any fuss—“Voyage et Exotisme” (French class on Travel and Exoticism through literature), “Within the French Salon” (Another French lit class, to be taken with my lovely Melissa!!), and an Intro to Latin American Culture and Civ class (because I think I’ve got Spain covered now).
The next day I was so stressed about writing to the teacher and hearing back from him as soon as possible that I almost RAN back and forth from school—under the hot midday sun, in sandals, while sick—twice, and in doing so, gave myself a very angry blister. Guess where the blister was? Not on the side of my foot, not on my heel, no, on the BOTTOM of my foot, right under my second toe. And it was BIG—it probably protruded a good quarter of an inch (I don’t actually know since I didn’t measure it, but it was a lot of protruding angry blister, that’s for sure). THIS, my friends, was the cherry on top, and suddenly, I wasn’t angry or frustrated any more. Oh no, now I was hysterical, and hysterical for me means that I’m all laughs and giggles—and on the precipice of a nervous breakdown. It’s a dangerous but surprisingly enjoyable state to be in. Well, luckily, things started turning around and I didn’t have to have any breakdowns. When my host mom got home from the movies (Wednesday is her night to go to the movies with her friends, she’s so cute!), I showed her the blister and she called her friend (who was a nurse) to ask what the best course of action was. Because the blister was on the bottom of my foot, there was nothing to do but pierce it with a needle and drain the fluid so that I could walk the next day. I was really nervous that it would hurt a LOT, but because the surface of the blister is dead skin, the piercing and draining process was relatively painless! Concha and I had a good laugh over it and off to bed I went, feeling much more cheerful. Concha always has this affect on me. :)
Over the past two days, I’ve been resting up, and the blister has been healing beautifully under the strict supervision of Concha and repeated sterilization with… iodine? Some yellowish liquid that she uses as an antiseptic liquid. Tomorrow I’m off to the beach with some friends for the day to “work on my tan”—by that I mean lie in the sun all day obsessively applying sunscreen and watching my freckles start to appear. My nose is already highly freckled and adorable. :)
I almost forgot! Monday is Día de la Cruz, and all over Granada they set up crosses and play traditional music and people dance Sevillanas (traditional dance, relative of Flamenco), so yesterday Concha started teaching me Sevillanas! At first she was just going to teach me the first part (there are four parts), but I did so well that we made it right up to the fourth part last night!!! She said that I learned more in a day than many people learn in months of classes—I was very proud. Anyways, she wants me to dance it with her for her friends, which I’m excited about. I just LOVE spending time with Concha—I definitely feel like she has been one of the most positive parts of my experience here in Spain, and she made this week in particular much more bearable. :)
I hope you all have enjoyed a less turbulent week than me, with considerably less blisters. ;)
Pura vida,
Kelsey
Showing posts with label sickness. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sickness. Show all posts
Friday, April 30, 2010
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Semana Santa!
Holy week is a really big deal in all of Spain, but especially in Andalucía, the region Granada is in. I wanted to make sure I didn’t miss the whole week, so I flew back from France on Thursday morning so I could see the processions on Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, which are supposedly the coolest in Granada.
A Semana Santa procession is a very unique thing, unlike any other parade I’ve ever seen. When it was described to me, I didn’t really understand what in the world it could be, so although I’ll try to explain them now after having personal experience with them, I’m not sure how clear it will be! There are many churches in Granada, and many “Brotherhoods,” and each brotherhood puts on a procession which leaves from their associated church, makes its way through town to the Cathedral, then goes back to its church. Each procession takes quite a long time to complete the circle—sometimes as much as 8 or 9 hours. The procession is oriented around the “imágenes,” or Idols: one of Jesus and one of Mary. Several only have Jesus or only Mary, or in the case of María de las Angustías, they’re together on the same float thing. Anyways, these imágenes are very old, or copies of very old ones, and they are usually made out of wood, metal, and fabric, with fresh flowers added for additional decoration. They’re very elaborate, veritable works of art, and each is different. The imágenes are preceded by Nazarenes, who wear long robes in different colors (depending on the brotherhood they’re from) with a tall pointy hat that covers their face. It was a little shocking to see their outfits at first because they are very reminiscent of what the KKK wears, but I’m sure that’s only a connection an American would make; clearly, these Spanish Nazarenes came first, and the KKK may have simply copied them in an attempt to give their hate crimes religious connotations. Anyways, after I got past the initial shock, the outfits are actually very cool. So, the Nazarenes come first, followed by the floats/imágenes, which are carried by 30 – 40 men underneath who move in such a way as to make it seem like Mary and Jesus are walking—it’s pretty darn cool! They are followed by a band, which helps the guys carrying Mary and Jesus keep time and also plays awesome music.
The first procession I went to see was unlike any of the others because it was El Silencio—the Silence. It was super eerie but also very moving, because when the image of Jesus comes past, all the lights in the area are turned off and everyone is silent (minus camera flashes and clicking, of course). The Nazarenes (in black) carry long candles, and instead of a band, there is only one drummer who keeps the beat. Following Jesus are the Penitents, who carry crosses, go barefoot, and/or wear shackles around their ankles, which make a horrible scratchy sound on the pavement in the silence. It was definitely a unique experience.
All the others were considerably more upbeat, with colorful Nazarenes and lively bands, but all of the ones I saw were at night, so it was difficult to take pictures.
I’m just recovering from being (very) sick yesterday, so you’ll have to forgive me the shorter entry, but maybe go look up “semana santa Granada” on google images and you’ll get a better idea of what I’m talking about.
Love to all,
Kelsey
A Semana Santa procession is a very unique thing, unlike any other parade I’ve ever seen. When it was described to me, I didn’t really understand what in the world it could be, so although I’ll try to explain them now after having personal experience with them, I’m not sure how clear it will be! There are many churches in Granada, and many “Brotherhoods,” and each brotherhood puts on a procession which leaves from their associated church, makes its way through town to the Cathedral, then goes back to its church. Each procession takes quite a long time to complete the circle—sometimes as much as 8 or 9 hours. The procession is oriented around the “imágenes,” or Idols: one of Jesus and one of Mary. Several only have Jesus or only Mary, or in the case of María de las Angustías, they’re together on the same float thing. Anyways, these imágenes are very old, or copies of very old ones, and they are usually made out of wood, metal, and fabric, with fresh flowers added for additional decoration. They’re very elaborate, veritable works of art, and each is different. The imágenes are preceded by Nazarenes, who wear long robes in different colors (depending on the brotherhood they’re from) with a tall pointy hat that covers their face. It was a little shocking to see their outfits at first because they are very reminiscent of what the KKK wears, but I’m sure that’s only a connection an American would make; clearly, these Spanish Nazarenes came first, and the KKK may have simply copied them in an attempt to give their hate crimes religious connotations. Anyways, after I got past the initial shock, the outfits are actually very cool. So, the Nazarenes come first, followed by the floats/imágenes, which are carried by 30 – 40 men underneath who move in such a way as to make it seem like Mary and Jesus are walking—it’s pretty darn cool! They are followed by a band, which helps the guys carrying Mary and Jesus keep time and also plays awesome music.
The first procession I went to see was unlike any of the others because it was El Silencio—the Silence. It was super eerie but also very moving, because when the image of Jesus comes past, all the lights in the area are turned off and everyone is silent (minus camera flashes and clicking, of course). The Nazarenes (in black) carry long candles, and instead of a band, there is only one drummer who keeps the beat. Following Jesus are the Penitents, who carry crosses, go barefoot, and/or wear shackles around their ankles, which make a horrible scratchy sound on the pavement in the silence. It was definitely a unique experience.
All the others were considerably more upbeat, with colorful Nazarenes and lively bands, but all of the ones I saw were at night, so it was difficult to take pictures.
I’m just recovering from being (very) sick yesterday, so you’ll have to forgive me the shorter entry, but maybe go look up “semana santa Granada” on google images and you’ll get a better idea of what I’m talking about.
Love to all,
Kelsey
Sunday, March 7, 2010
Close Encounters of the Spanish Kind...
I realized the other day that I forgot to mention something that happened on the bus to Toledo—or, well, the bus from Granada to Madrid, but our ultimate goal was Toledo. About twenty minutes into the five hour trip, there was a commotion in the aisle next to me and Nora (I was by the window, Nora by the aisle), and people started shouting for the bus driver to stop. I couldn’t see what had happened in the aisle from my seat, so I was confused, but when the bus pulled over, I sort of peeked over Nora and saw that a guy was laying face-down in the aisle. Apparently, he just slumped over and fell into the aisle. A couple of guys got him turned over and eventually he stood up with their help and they took him outside. When he was turned over and I saw his face, he looked so sad. He was crying, and just looked really sad. There was a med student on the bus that went outside with them, and someone ran to a gas station to get a bottle of water for him, and then we just waited for an ambulance to get there to take him somewhere to get checked out. It was kind of a surreal experience, but I’m glad it happened on a bus rather than a plane or something like that where you can’t just pull over. I was also impressed that everyone was so helpful and patient. So that was our little unplanned adventure on the way to Toledo. I hope he’s ok, poor guy.
This weekend has been a whirlwind and a workout! On Friday, I walked up to the Albaycín with Luis and Jocy to watch the sunset on the Alhambra and see all the lights come on and such. It was really fun to hang out with them and just sit and talk and watch the light change over the cityscape. We were sitting on this ledge-wall-thing that divides the lookout from the street below, which has a pretty big drop to the street. I’m afraid of heights, so I was sitting on the edge of the wall that was on the lookout side and trying not to look down at all on the other side, because it made my head spin. Luis and Jocy were on either side of me, and both were sitting with their feet dangling over the street-side, and every once in awhile one of them would forget they were sitting so close to the edge and be like, “Wow, I almost lost my balance, haha!” I kept getting nervous for them and like grabbing their arm in panic that they were going to fall over; it was actually really hilarious, but I was definitely relieved when we got up and moved away from the wall, haha.
That night, I went out with them and this other guy from our program, Russell, and these other Americans from a different program who were really nice and fun. We went to a tapas bar, and then to this bar called L’Scandelo where we’ve been developing a relationship with the bartenders and we get really cheap (sometimes free) drinks. Most nights, nothing extraordinarily exciting happens, but that night, I had two rather interesting encounters. First, this bachelorette party arrives and the bride approaches us to ask me and Jocy to help her do a puzzle. She’s probably in her mid-forties, and her friends had four different little challenges for her to do over the night, the first of which was the puzzle. Next, she had to get five people to jump rope—and yup, you guessed it, we helped her with that one, too! That was definitely the most interesting challenge, just because everyone had been drinking for at least a few hours at that point—and the bride was very drunk—so our coordination was not fantastic. I’ll let you imagine for yourselves the hilarity that ensued. Next, they had a little toy dartboard with magnetic darts and they split us Americans up into two teams of three and had us compete, with free shots as our reward. Of course, the bride was basically in love with us by then, and she ended up buying shots for all of us. Her last challenge was to get us all to sing a song in Spanish, which was almost impossible, because almost none of us knew any songs in Spanish, and we ended up kind of faking along with “Estas son las mañanitas…” which was hilarious.
My second interesting encounter was after the bride and her entourage left, and I was starting to think seriously about going home for the night since I had early morning plans. This random guy came over and started talking to me and Jocy and another girl (who was it at that point? I can’t remember her name, an American girl I’d just met that night). He was from Madrid and only in Granada for the weekend, and he said he was going to give us Spanish lessons, at which point I was already like, ok, sketchy man, whatever. Our first “lesson” was the two-kiss-on-the-cheek thing, which I was also wary of, but definitely expecting, since that is trick #1 that you learn to spot as a gringa (or guiri, as we’re called here) around sketchy Spanish guys. So he did the kisses with Jocy, and then with me, and then all of a sudden he had a hold of one of my arms and his other arm around my waist and was talking in my ear, saying, “Wow, just those two cheek kisses and I’m already in love with you!” So I’m like leaning back away from him, but he has me by the waist so I can’t exactly move away (don’t worry, I didn’t feel unsafe—this guy was a sketchmeister for sure, but he wasn’t dangerous, especially when I had a few good guy friends a few feet away if I needed them, so I was just kind of amused, and definitely not scared). He told me he was going skiing the next day and wanted me to come with him, and I just said, nope, I don’t ski, while still trying to subtly worm my way away from him. As he was wheedling and asking me why I was soooo busy I couldn’t spend the day with him, I got my hand free—success! After about five minutes of bantering back and forth and him saying, “come on come on come on!” and me saying, “no no no!” he said, “ok, I’ll give you thirty seconds to come up with a decent excuse not to come up to the mountains with me tomorrow” and backed away a tiny bit. As soon as his arm wasn’t around my waist anymore, bam, in swooped one of my new guy friends (Ryan, I’d just met him that night, but I think I might have a class with him?) and, taking my hand, leaned over and said, “Hey, are you ok?” I was kind of still reeling from Intense Madrid Man, so I just kind of smiled and nodded my head slightly, and he was like, “Are you sure?” And I just squeezed his hand and was like, “Well, UM.” And he totally took over the situation, stepped in front of me and engaged the Madrid guy in conversation for a few minutes, after which the guy said goodbye, looked at me kind of disappointedly, and left the bar with his friend. I was like, holy crap, I need to go out with you more often, new friend!! I mean, I could have eventually gotten rid of the guy, but when I’m a few drinks in, really tired, my Spanish is fuzzy, and the guy is particularly insistent and doesn’t give me any good reason to be particularly MEAN to him, it does take awhile to get them to go away. I am curious to know what Ryan said to the guy, because it worked really well and he didn’t even get feisty and try to pick a fight or anything! I always try NOT to let my guy friends get involved in a situation where a guy is hitting on me and I don’t want him to, just because if the guy gets upset or belligerent and violent, it’s very unlikely he’ll hit me (at least in Spain, from what I can tell), but it is VERY likely he would hit a guy friend who’s trying to defend me. Plus, I can defend myself pretty well, sometimes it just takes me awhile to put my foot down, you know? I’m way too nice. I feel like any guy who has the guts to come straight up to me and say, “I’m crazy about you, please go out with me” deserves at least a kind rejection, you know? No, maybe I’m just way too nice. Anyways, that was my second interesting encounter of the night.
So, after getting home and into bed at around 4 am, I woke up at 8:15 so I could go up to las Alupjarras with my friend Katie the next morning. Haha, weee! I was really impressed with how it wasn’t too difficult at all, actually. I was sleepy, of course, but I didn’t even have a headache or anything like that. My hair still smelled like bar, but I just put it up and said to myself, I’ll deal with that later. We didn’t really have a plan, so once we got up into the mountains, we just got off the bus in a little town called Órgiva, and were like, now what? Once we realized how stupid we were for not having planned anything at ALL, we couldn’t stop laughing at ourselves. We found the tourism office, got a few rather unhelpful maps, had a coffee and some lunch, and then set off on a random road out of town to explore the mountains a bit. We ended up having a blast wandering around the town and up this beautiful curvy road where we met a doggy friend, who we named Waldo. He was adorable and followed us all the way up and most of the way down the road, and I wuv him. It was a great day, and super fun to just get out of town and explore a different, beautiful part of the area with a good friend.
I got back home at around 7:30 at night, and went into my room for a bit to empty my bag and settle in. I put my headphones in for a few minutes while I was putting my pictures on my computer, and when I took them out, I heard Concha throwing up in the bathroom. I came rushing into the hall (of course), and her best friend was coming in at the same moment—Concha must have called her when she started not feeling well. Concha literally looked grayish green and like she might faint, but she didn’t want to go to the doctor or anything like that, so we put her to bed, and then her friend left. I was, of course, worried about her, but there wasn’t exactly much I could do—I know from experience that sometimes you just need to sleep that stuff off, especially stomach flu-like illnesses. I took a quick shower, then went to bed, too, but I left both our bedroom doors open so I could hear her snoring and know she was ok. Eventually I fell asleep (really early, I imagine, since I got into bed at around 10), and when I woke up at 10:30 this morning, my door was closed and Concha was up and about, doing her normal Sunday stuff. I got up and asked her how she was, and she said she’s feeling ok, although still a little punky, of course. She had plans to go see La Traviata tonight, but I don’t know if she’ll end up going. I told her to just sit down and take the day off, but she’s super stubborn and insists on doing SOMETHING, even if it’s just dusting, so that she doesn’t feel so useless. I’ll definitely be keeping a close eye on her over the next few days, but I think the worst is over. Uy uy uy, what a semester of stomach illnesses it has been! What is up with that?
This next weekend we’re going to Madrid with our program, which is super exciting!! Then it’s only a few more weeks until midterms—eek! I have no idea what to expect, because I still haven’t turned in any work to any of my teachers, but I don’t think it will be TOO awful. I guess we’ll see. :)
I hope everyone is doing well and that you’re all enjoying the beginnings of Spring wherever you are!
Pura vida,
Kelsey
This weekend has been a whirlwind and a workout! On Friday, I walked up to the Albaycín with Luis and Jocy to watch the sunset on the Alhambra and see all the lights come on and such. It was really fun to hang out with them and just sit and talk and watch the light change over the cityscape. We were sitting on this ledge-wall-thing that divides the lookout from the street below, which has a pretty big drop to the street. I’m afraid of heights, so I was sitting on the edge of the wall that was on the lookout side and trying not to look down at all on the other side, because it made my head spin. Luis and Jocy were on either side of me, and both were sitting with their feet dangling over the street-side, and every once in awhile one of them would forget they were sitting so close to the edge and be like, “Wow, I almost lost my balance, haha!” I kept getting nervous for them and like grabbing their arm in panic that they were going to fall over; it was actually really hilarious, but I was definitely relieved when we got up and moved away from the wall, haha.
That night, I went out with them and this other guy from our program, Russell, and these other Americans from a different program who were really nice and fun. We went to a tapas bar, and then to this bar called L’Scandelo where we’ve been developing a relationship with the bartenders and we get really cheap (sometimes free) drinks. Most nights, nothing extraordinarily exciting happens, but that night, I had two rather interesting encounters. First, this bachelorette party arrives and the bride approaches us to ask me and Jocy to help her do a puzzle. She’s probably in her mid-forties, and her friends had four different little challenges for her to do over the night, the first of which was the puzzle. Next, she had to get five people to jump rope—and yup, you guessed it, we helped her with that one, too! That was definitely the most interesting challenge, just because everyone had been drinking for at least a few hours at that point—and the bride was very drunk—so our coordination was not fantastic. I’ll let you imagine for yourselves the hilarity that ensued. Next, they had a little toy dartboard with magnetic darts and they split us Americans up into two teams of three and had us compete, with free shots as our reward. Of course, the bride was basically in love with us by then, and she ended up buying shots for all of us. Her last challenge was to get us all to sing a song in Spanish, which was almost impossible, because almost none of us knew any songs in Spanish, and we ended up kind of faking along with “Estas son las mañanitas…” which was hilarious.
My second interesting encounter was after the bride and her entourage left, and I was starting to think seriously about going home for the night since I had early morning plans. This random guy came over and started talking to me and Jocy and another girl (who was it at that point? I can’t remember her name, an American girl I’d just met that night). He was from Madrid and only in Granada for the weekend, and he said he was going to give us Spanish lessons, at which point I was already like, ok, sketchy man, whatever. Our first “lesson” was the two-kiss-on-the-cheek thing, which I was also wary of, but definitely expecting, since that is trick #1 that you learn to spot as a gringa (or guiri, as we’re called here) around sketchy Spanish guys. So he did the kisses with Jocy, and then with me, and then all of a sudden he had a hold of one of my arms and his other arm around my waist and was talking in my ear, saying, “Wow, just those two cheek kisses and I’m already in love with you!” So I’m like leaning back away from him, but he has me by the waist so I can’t exactly move away (don’t worry, I didn’t feel unsafe—this guy was a sketchmeister for sure, but he wasn’t dangerous, especially when I had a few good guy friends a few feet away if I needed them, so I was just kind of amused, and definitely not scared). He told me he was going skiing the next day and wanted me to come with him, and I just said, nope, I don’t ski, while still trying to subtly worm my way away from him. As he was wheedling and asking me why I was soooo busy I couldn’t spend the day with him, I got my hand free—success! After about five minutes of bantering back and forth and him saying, “come on come on come on!” and me saying, “no no no!” he said, “ok, I’ll give you thirty seconds to come up with a decent excuse not to come up to the mountains with me tomorrow” and backed away a tiny bit. As soon as his arm wasn’t around my waist anymore, bam, in swooped one of my new guy friends (Ryan, I’d just met him that night, but I think I might have a class with him?) and, taking my hand, leaned over and said, “Hey, are you ok?” I was kind of still reeling from Intense Madrid Man, so I just kind of smiled and nodded my head slightly, and he was like, “Are you sure?” And I just squeezed his hand and was like, “Well, UM.” And he totally took over the situation, stepped in front of me and engaged the Madrid guy in conversation for a few minutes, after which the guy said goodbye, looked at me kind of disappointedly, and left the bar with his friend. I was like, holy crap, I need to go out with you more often, new friend!! I mean, I could have eventually gotten rid of the guy, but when I’m a few drinks in, really tired, my Spanish is fuzzy, and the guy is particularly insistent and doesn’t give me any good reason to be particularly MEAN to him, it does take awhile to get them to go away. I am curious to know what Ryan said to the guy, because it worked really well and he didn’t even get feisty and try to pick a fight or anything! I always try NOT to let my guy friends get involved in a situation where a guy is hitting on me and I don’t want him to, just because if the guy gets upset or belligerent and violent, it’s very unlikely he’ll hit me (at least in Spain, from what I can tell), but it is VERY likely he would hit a guy friend who’s trying to defend me. Plus, I can defend myself pretty well, sometimes it just takes me awhile to put my foot down, you know? I’m way too nice. I feel like any guy who has the guts to come straight up to me and say, “I’m crazy about you, please go out with me” deserves at least a kind rejection, you know? No, maybe I’m just way too nice. Anyways, that was my second interesting encounter of the night.
So, after getting home and into bed at around 4 am, I woke up at 8:15 so I could go up to las Alupjarras with my friend Katie the next morning. Haha, weee! I was really impressed with how it wasn’t too difficult at all, actually. I was sleepy, of course, but I didn’t even have a headache or anything like that. My hair still smelled like bar, but I just put it up and said to myself, I’ll deal with that later. We didn’t really have a plan, so once we got up into the mountains, we just got off the bus in a little town called Órgiva, and were like, now what? Once we realized how stupid we were for not having planned anything at ALL, we couldn’t stop laughing at ourselves. We found the tourism office, got a few rather unhelpful maps, had a coffee and some lunch, and then set off on a random road out of town to explore the mountains a bit. We ended up having a blast wandering around the town and up this beautiful curvy road where we met a doggy friend, who we named Waldo. He was adorable and followed us all the way up and most of the way down the road, and I wuv him. It was a great day, and super fun to just get out of town and explore a different, beautiful part of the area with a good friend.
I got back home at around 7:30 at night, and went into my room for a bit to empty my bag and settle in. I put my headphones in for a few minutes while I was putting my pictures on my computer, and when I took them out, I heard Concha throwing up in the bathroom. I came rushing into the hall (of course), and her best friend was coming in at the same moment—Concha must have called her when she started not feeling well. Concha literally looked grayish green and like she might faint, but she didn’t want to go to the doctor or anything like that, so we put her to bed, and then her friend left. I was, of course, worried about her, but there wasn’t exactly much I could do—I know from experience that sometimes you just need to sleep that stuff off, especially stomach flu-like illnesses. I took a quick shower, then went to bed, too, but I left both our bedroom doors open so I could hear her snoring and know she was ok. Eventually I fell asleep (really early, I imagine, since I got into bed at around 10), and when I woke up at 10:30 this morning, my door was closed and Concha was up and about, doing her normal Sunday stuff. I got up and asked her how she was, and she said she’s feeling ok, although still a little punky, of course. She had plans to go see La Traviata tonight, but I don’t know if she’ll end up going. I told her to just sit down and take the day off, but she’s super stubborn and insists on doing SOMETHING, even if it’s just dusting, so that she doesn’t feel so useless. I’ll definitely be keeping a close eye on her over the next few days, but I think the worst is over. Uy uy uy, what a semester of stomach illnesses it has been! What is up with that?
This next weekend we’re going to Madrid with our program, which is super exciting!! Then it’s only a few more weeks until midterms—eek! I have no idea what to expect, because I still haven’t turned in any work to any of my teachers, but I don’t think it will be TOO awful. I guess we’ll see. :)
I hope everyone is doing well and that you’re all enjoying the beginnings of Spring wherever you are!
Pura vida,
Kelsey
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Feliz día de San Valentín!
What a lovely weekend in. I considered going out each of the nights this weekend, but each night I had a really strong sense that I really just ought to stay in and let my body heal a little more from its violent revolt last week. It’s hard to believe that only a week ago I was lying sick as a dog on a hostel bed in Italy, not even sure how I was going to get on the plane the next day. I promised myself I would take it easy this weekend, and I am really grateful I actually followed up on that promise. There are many more weekends to go out and cause trouble; this rainy, cold weekend was a good one to spend inside, bonding with Concha and letting my stomach heal. Even just last night it was feeling a little punky, so I think tea and cookies were a better plan than beer and tapas. Just maybe. :P
Saturday afternoon, Concha and I looked through all my pictures of Morocco and Venice, and then she asked to see pictures from home, so I showed her a lot of pictures from the last few years, either at home or at Scripps. It made me miss you guys a lot. She loved the Melissa/Alayna/Kate/Kelsey pictures from the end of Freshman year—remember those? And she also loved the ones that Matt took of me and of Bellingham this past summer. And she commented on how much Heath looks like Mom, and Mom looks like me, and I look like Dad, haha. And we both commented on how beautiful I look with my natural haircolor, actually. She said, “I like you as a redhead, and I really like you as a brunette, but I think my favorite is when your hair is this nice honey color, how did you do that?” Haha! I was struck by how much I like the way I look with my natural, weird, indefinable hair color as well. I’ve been having a lot of fun playing with colors and stuff, but I think maybe I’ll want to graduate college looking as naturally ME as possible. So maybe this summer we’ll start the transition back to that. We’ll see. You know me; I change my mind at the drop of a hat when it comes to things like this. :P
Oh my, will you look at that. It’s Valentine’s Day. I hope you all have had or are having a wonderful Valentine’s Day. I feel like I should do something to at least recognize the day as it passes. I remember what an absolutely wonderful day it was for me last year. Oh, you know what? Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll make a playlist of songs I’ve been listening to a lot lately so that, if you want, you can go listen to them and feel closer to me, knowing we’re listening to the same music even though we’re thousands of miles apart. Goofy, but I like it. Ok, here goes.
1. Hush Now – Catherine Feeny
2. Why Do You Let Me Stay Here? – She & Him
3. All I Do is Dream of You – Michael Bublé (I definitely dance around my room to this)
4. Rain – Bishop Allen (Every time I get caught outside in the rain, this pops into my head)
5. I’ll Be Seeing You – Billie Holiday
6. Where does the good go? – Tegan and Sara
7. At Least that’s What You Said – Wilco
8. Runaway Train – Soul Asylum
9. For Me, It’s You – Train
10. I Still Don’t Believe You – Catherine Feeny
11. Everything Will Be Alright – The Killers
12. Show Me the Reason – The Cash Brothers
13. Midnight Coward – Stars
14. Portions for Foxes – Rilo Kiley
15. Weakest Shade of Blue – The Pernice Brothers
16. Barcelona – Rufus Wainwright
17. Singing in the Rain – Jaime Cullum (I love this version of this song)
18. I Can’t Stay – The Killers
19. Undecided – The Magic Numbers
20. Perfectly Lonely – John Mayer
21. No Sé Por Qué – Chayanne (Memories from Costa Rica…)
22. Come Downstairs and Say Hello – Guster
23. Quiero Saber – Gypsy Kings
24. War of My Life – John Mayer
25. Volver – Estrella Morente
Ok, so, in looking at this list from an objective perspective, I look like I’m really depressed and heartsick. Hahaha! Don’t worry, I’m not, I just like these songs. And I’ve been having fun looking through my music to find stuff that I haven’t listened to in a long time which I really loved at one point in my life. Also, for some reason, I find that listening to sad music makes me happier sometimes.
I swear to god, you guys, I just really love these songs!
Speaking of music, Concha has a huge library of Jazz and classical and pop music, and she’s letting me put it ALL on my computer. Yay! Homework looks like a lot more fun when I have tons of new, good music to accompany it.
So, uh, happy Valentine’s Day! :P I love you all very much—will you be my Valentines? ;)
Pura vida y mucho amor,
Kelsey
PS. If you want to break your own heart, or someone else’s, for that matter, I recommend the song “Ne Me Quitte Pas”—there are many versions out there, just youtube it. Concha’s favorite version is by Nina Simone. I can’t decide which my favorite is. Just thought I’d share, in honor of V-Day. ;)
Saturday afternoon, Concha and I looked through all my pictures of Morocco and Venice, and then she asked to see pictures from home, so I showed her a lot of pictures from the last few years, either at home or at Scripps. It made me miss you guys a lot. She loved the Melissa/Alayna/Kate/Kelsey pictures from the end of Freshman year—remember those? And she also loved the ones that Matt took of me and of Bellingham this past summer. And she commented on how much Heath looks like Mom, and Mom looks like me, and I look like Dad, haha. And we both commented on how beautiful I look with my natural haircolor, actually. She said, “I like you as a redhead, and I really like you as a brunette, but I think my favorite is when your hair is this nice honey color, how did you do that?” Haha! I was struck by how much I like the way I look with my natural, weird, indefinable hair color as well. I’ve been having a lot of fun playing with colors and stuff, but I think maybe I’ll want to graduate college looking as naturally ME as possible. So maybe this summer we’ll start the transition back to that. We’ll see. You know me; I change my mind at the drop of a hat when it comes to things like this. :P
Oh my, will you look at that. It’s Valentine’s Day. I hope you all have had or are having a wonderful Valentine’s Day. I feel like I should do something to at least recognize the day as it passes. I remember what an absolutely wonderful day it was for me last year. Oh, you know what? Here’s what I’ll do. I’ll make a playlist of songs I’ve been listening to a lot lately so that, if you want, you can go listen to them and feel closer to me, knowing we’re listening to the same music even though we’re thousands of miles apart. Goofy, but I like it. Ok, here goes.
1. Hush Now – Catherine Feeny
2. Why Do You Let Me Stay Here? – She & Him
3. All I Do is Dream of You – Michael Bublé (I definitely dance around my room to this)
4. Rain – Bishop Allen (Every time I get caught outside in the rain, this pops into my head)
5. I’ll Be Seeing You – Billie Holiday
6. Where does the good go? – Tegan and Sara
7. At Least that’s What You Said – Wilco
8. Runaway Train – Soul Asylum
9. For Me, It’s You – Train
10. I Still Don’t Believe You – Catherine Feeny
11. Everything Will Be Alright – The Killers
12. Show Me the Reason – The Cash Brothers
13. Midnight Coward – Stars
14. Portions for Foxes – Rilo Kiley
15. Weakest Shade of Blue – The Pernice Brothers
16. Barcelona – Rufus Wainwright
17. Singing in the Rain – Jaime Cullum (I love this version of this song)
18. I Can’t Stay – The Killers
19. Undecided – The Magic Numbers
20. Perfectly Lonely – John Mayer
21. No Sé Por Qué – Chayanne (Memories from Costa Rica…)
22. Come Downstairs and Say Hello – Guster
23. Quiero Saber – Gypsy Kings
24. War of My Life – John Mayer
25. Volver – Estrella Morente
Ok, so, in looking at this list from an objective perspective, I look like I’m really depressed and heartsick. Hahaha! Don’t worry, I’m not, I just like these songs. And I’ve been having fun looking through my music to find stuff that I haven’t listened to in a long time which I really loved at one point in my life. Also, for some reason, I find that listening to sad music makes me happier sometimes.
I swear to god, you guys, I just really love these songs!
Speaking of music, Concha has a huge library of Jazz and classical and pop music, and she’s letting me put it ALL on my computer. Yay! Homework looks like a lot more fun when I have tons of new, good music to accompany it.
So, uh, happy Valentine’s Day! :P I love you all very much—will you be my Valentines? ;)
Pura vida y mucho amor,
Kelsey
PS. If you want to break your own heart, or someone else’s, for that matter, I recommend the song “Ne Me Quitte Pas”—there are many versions out there, just youtube it. Concha’s favorite version is by Nina Simone. I can’t decide which my favorite is. Just thought I’d share, in honor of V-Day. ;)
Friday, February 12, 2010
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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