Barcelona, Blisters, Colds, and Classes

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Sevilla, Olive Oil, and Why Boys Suck

First of all, I want to note that actual good guys are going the way of the dinosaur. Men are quite scummy these days. I just thought someone should raise the alarm on that one. (I’ll tell this story later on.) **Edit: Ok, FINE. Guys are generally kind of awesome, I just fell in with the wrong crowd for a minute there. And, to be fair, women can be just as bad (often worse) than men. I'm sorry I got upset and said that men are scum. Sorry, men. You aren't all bad, the bad guys just seem to be more... vocal.**

Anyways. This weekend, a few friends and I went to Sevilla, which is the capital of Andalucía and a really cool city. It was a bit rainy on and off during the day, but it was actually pretty awesome to hear thunder occasionally, and at one point, it was ACTUALLY RAINING—not sprinkling like it usually does, but really coming down! I definitely went and danced around in it for a minute. :)

The first place we went to we actually found on accident, because we were lost. :P It’s called the Plaza de España, and it’s one of the buildings that was built in 1929 (I think?) for a big fair thing, and it has representations of each Spanish municipality in these cute little booths, all done in lovely Sevillan tile work. We found the one for Granada and took pictures of it and with it, of course. The building is built in a semi-circle, and it has a cute little fake canal and very cool bridges that go over it—all very useless but beautiful.

Next, we walked through a lovely couple of parks in search of the Cathedral and Alcázar (palace), and played around on this awesome tree with a really cool, complex, above-ground root system. Then, we got lost in the old Jewish neighborhood—judería, which pretty much every Spanish seems to have, and they’re all beautiful and cool. (We did a lot of getting lost and finding cool places by accident.) Eventually, we actually made it to our destination, the Cathedral. I kind of feel like I’ve seen so many gothic cathedrals that they all blend together and look the same to me after awhile. However, this cathedral is supposedly the third biggest in Europe, which is pretty awesome. Also, its belltower was built by the same guy who built a belltower I saw in Rabat, Morocco, which is pretty awesome. It has a ramp up to the top instead of stairs so that whoever was going to ring the bells could ride a horsey up to the top, which I loved, because sometimes walking up or down a lot of stairs gets me pretty close to having a panic attack, actually. (I’m remembering the tower in Bruges – it was not very fun trying to come back down from the top. Poor Melissa had to coach me through it—I miss that girl!)

After seeing the cathedral, we took a lunch break on a bench in the square in front of it, and did some people watching and horsey watching—there are a lot of carriages that hang out there to take tourists on little jaunts. Then, we went to the Alcázar, which is the palace where the King stays when he visits Sevilla, and very similar to the Alhambra. One really cool thing about the Alcázar is that a lot of the paint is still intact, so you can get an idea of what the Alhambra would look like if more of its paint decorations were still intact, too. There were a ton of rooms, and we kept discovering new little nooks and courtyards, each one cooler and more charming than the last. Also, one of the girls I went with was pretty goofy because she’d stayed out all night the night before and was a bit sleep-deprived (ahem), so she got us all to sing Disney songs and dance around through the royal halls and gardens. It was pretty awesome. She also serenaded the fishies in one of the many fish ponds (which were all pretty grody looking, poor fishies) with a lovely rendition of “Come little fishies, I’ll taaake you away…” from that movie, the one with the witches… what was that called? Anyways, all in all it was a pretty awesome day.

The next day, my program took us to an old olive oil making place that is now only a museum, and it was super cool to see the way they press olive oil. We didn’t actually get to see them make any, since the machinery isn’t functional anymore, but still. Olive oil is such a huge part of the culture here, and I love how good it is for you, as well as how good it makes me feel—my hair and skin are definitely softer, for one thing! So that was fun. Plus, there was this cute doggie who accompanied us on our tour, and we named him Jack. I wanted to take him home and give him a bath, and maybe a few rabies shots. :P

So, I guess I should explain my frustration with men a little further. Besides the gross catcalling and horror stories of harassment I keep hearing from my friends about Spaniards, I have become pretty disillusioned with some of the guys in our program lately, too. A lot of them seem really nice, right up until you realize they’re just looking to get some action and don’t actually care too much about developing a friendship with you. I’m really NOT looking to hook up with anyone, and as soon as they figure that out, many of them have stopped being so friendly. It’s really quite charming. There’s one guy in particular who seems to be making the rounds of the girls, pursuing one until he hooks up with her, then ditching her to pursue someone else. And this is a guy I thought originally was really a sweetheart—shows you how good a judge of character I am!

Anyways, not all men are scum, as evidenced by my friends back home and two guys here who have yet to mar their reputation in my eyes. One of them is the guy who has been really great at supporting me and talking through things with me concerning my ex-boyfriend—he’s really challenged me to be strong and take care of myself first, which I appreciate a lot. He’s been a great friend to have here. The other guy is super nice, has a girlfriend, and is SUPER great with boundaries. He makes it clear that he isn’t going to do anything that would make his girlfriend uncomfortable (she is one lucky girl!), but he’s still really fun to hang out with. So last night when we all went out, I kind of just stuck with those guys, and had a really good time (even though some of the not-so-cool guys were around doing their not-so-cool thing, which got me all sorts of mad). They taught me how to eat sunflower seeds! And danced with me without being gross and sexual. It was very nice. So, I guess, most men are scum, but there’s still hope. Sort of.

I’m a little worried about how jaded and bitter I seem to be, but, well, I think it’s a normal part of the growing-up process, and I think perhaps it’s good for me to be seeing bad behavior and identifying it as such. Maybe it will help me to make better decisions about who I get involved with in the future. I’m pretty frustrated with dating people I’m not very compatible with (haha).

I am pretty excited about coming home—being away from all of my friends and family for a little over eight months is pretty difficult and exhausting. I feel SO lucky and SO grateful that I’ve had this experience—I’ve done a LOT of learning and growing up, and I wouldn’t change a thing that has happened in these eight months. Still, I miss home. I miss a sense of predictability in life. I miss not sticking out like a sore thumb—being stared at in the street actually gets old after awhile. :P

Love to all, and see you in a little over a month!!
Pura Vida,
Kelsey

Daily Life in Granada...

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

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

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

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

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

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

Alright, signing off for now,
Pura Vida,
Kelsey

A day in Córdoba!

Yesterday, a friend and I took an early morning bus to Córdoba, a lovely little town to the northwest of Granada. Córdoba is very Andalucían in that it demonstrates an interesting mix of the three cultures that shared (or fought over) the region over the past millennium: Christians, Jews, and Muslims. My friend, Katie, and I decided to walk from the bus station to the famous Mezquita, and I’m glad we did, because we ran smack into the Judería, the old Jewish neighborhood, which is surprisingly well-preserved compared to, for example, the Jewish neighborhood in Granada, and incredibly charming. I don’t think I actually took any pictures, so I’ll try to describe it so you can create your own mental images. The streets are tiny—some too small for even the tiny European cars to fit down—labyrinth-like, and speckled with sundrenched little plazas. The peaceful monotony of whitewashed walls is broken only by flowerboxes protruding from small windows, many with star-of-David patterned wooden screens or shutters, and wrought-iron doorways in the wall that tempt passerby with glimpses of lush, intimate little gardens or courtyards. The buildings are generally about two or three stories high, and from some streets, you can catch a peek at the tower of the Mezquita, which, at only half of its original height, is still impressive.

So, when did I turn into a guidebook?!

Anyways, we walked through the Judería to the Mezquita, which is now Catholic Cathedral, previously a Muslim Mosque (Mezquita), previously a Christian Church. Confused yet? Ok, so, the original Church was bought by a Muslim ruler to provide a place for the burgeoning Islamic community to worship, and he built the original Mosque on top of the former church’s foundations. The Mosque was enlarged over time, and at the height of its beauty, must have been absolutely breathtaking, with its forest of columns (with material from all over the region—Roman, Visigothic, Syrian?!), domed skylights, and desert-like colors of white and terracotta. A few centuries after the Catholic Reconquista, however, somebody had the brilliant idea to tear out the center of the Mosque and build a Cathedral in its place, and I bet you everybody who saw it before and after the addition was pretty heartbroken. Although the Cathedral is lovely, with gorgeous carved mahogany choir stalls, it seems completely out of place and absolutely ruins the mesmerizing design of the Mosque. It’s depressing to think that this unnecessary display of religious dominance by the Catholic Church destroyed such a unique and beautiful historical site.

After the Mezquita, we walked over to the Alcázar de los Reyes Cristianos, which at different times in history has housed kings, the Spanish Inquisition, and a prison before being opened up to the public as a historical monument. The building itself didn’t seem that impressive to me (after the Alhambra and the Palacio Real, it’s hard for anything to call itself a palace and measure up), but the gardens were EXQUISITE. If I ever have the space and energy to create my own sort of decorative gardens, I would definitely try to do a miniature version of the gardens at the Alcázar. One of my favorite flowers, the Calla Lilly, was everywhere, and there was a fish pond, and numerous fountains, and long pools with arcing spouts of water and lillypads, and geometric cropped bush gardens, and even a little ducky pond! I was in heaven here. It was so peaceful and ordered and yet natural and colorful and lovely.

The rest of the day was spent wandering in search of lunch, then ice cream, and hanging out in the local park, which was very relaxing. On the bus ride home, they played the movie Wall-E, which made me happy but also homesick—I love that movie. :)

It has been wonderfully sunny in Granada lately, and Katie and I have started meeting up in the park—Parque García Lorca) to lie on the grass in the sun (don’t worry, I wear sunscreen—not interested in skin cancer or nasty leather skin in thirty years) and do homework or just hang out. It’s so wonderful to finally get to wear my skirts and dresses and not have to worry about coats and that sort of thing. We’re talking about going to beaches the last few weekends we’re here after our trip to Barcelona—apparently there are even some black sand beaches nearby that Katie wants to check out, and I am down for anything that includes me floating in the Mediterranean, let’s be honest. ;) I’ll be sure to keep you updated.

I send my love, and many hugs,
Pura vida,
Kelsey

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

Weekend in Madrid!!

Written March 15th.

Wow, what a weekend. It was fraught with emotional turmoil and anxiety and even anger, but it was also incredible and provided me wonderful bonding time with some of my new friends here.

So this weekend I went to Madrid with my program. On Friday morning, we left (early, too) on the five hour bus ride to Madrid. I sat next to Katie and we napped and listened to music all the way. We stopped in Toledo for a tiny bit, which was fun for me because I’d already done all the sights, so I got to enjoy hearing about the history and taking random pictures. There were some adorable doggies there, and one of them hit me with his tail! I felt loved and special.

We got to Madrid in the late afternoon, and Katie and I took a nap before going out for dinner with some other girls. I forgot my camera, which was a bummer because we walked by the Palacio Real and the Plaza Mayor, both of which were really lovely by night. We found a nice little Italian place that gave us two free bottles of wine for the six of us, and we had delicious pizza and talked about boys and life and travel and all that fun stuff.

Saturday, we went inside the Palacio Real, which was SO beautiful. One of our teachers told me that there had been a king who really liked clocks (or something like that, can’t actually remember the story) and that there were a TON of awesome clocks, so I made a point of noticing them, and they were really spectacular. Tables that were clocks; sculpture clocks; globe clocks; massive clocks; tiny clocks; they were all beautiful and unique. THEN, we went into this room—and YOU GUYS—it had a full quartet of Stradivarius instruments!!! I was about to faint. They are SO beautiful, and my teacher says that really awesome professionals get to play them for the King and his family!!! I was in awe. SUCH beautiful instruments.

All the rooms in the Palacio Real were exquisite, and all very different. I loved one of the rooms that had pale blue silk on the walls… another was decorated with ceramic walls… another was a lovely dusty rose color with lovely dark wood accents… it was overwhelmingly lovely, but also kind of overly decadent. I kept thinking how I would have NO idea what to do with all that space if I were the queen! I’m looking forward to my wittle apartment this summer, I think it’ll be a relief after seeing that massive palace.

After seeing the palace, Katie and Luis and Russell and Jess and a few others (can’t really remember who) and I wandered around shopping for awhile. It was fun to look at clothes and shoes and stuff, but I wasn’t in the mood to buy anything, so I got bored with it fast. We had lunch, and then Katie and Alissa and I went to the modern art museum, the Reina Sofia, which I ADORED, although I’m not sure the others liked it as much as I did. I was fascinated by all the Dali and Picasso and… well, other artists as well, but I’m bad with names. Picasso’s “Guernica” is in this museum, and it was really moving to see it in person. The museum also has a lovely little sculpture garden-courtyard, which was fun to wander through. After seeing the museum, we walked up to the Parque de Retiro and wandered around enjoying the sunshine. We wanted to rent a rowboat for half an hour, but the line was too long, so we just took pictures of other people in rowboats instead. :P

I was pretty exhausted by the time we got back to our room, so I just showered and took a nap before dinner. Dinner was uneventful; we found a little cafetería with relatively cheap, decent food and made a fool of ourselves trying to pay (haha). THEN, we met up with the group and went to see a play!!!! It was SO GOOD. Ok, so maybe just me and Luis thought it was awesome; I think everyone else gave up trying to understand and fell asleep for the most part, but I LOVED it! It was “La Ratonera,” or “The Mousetrap” by Agatha Christy, and it had me on the edge of my seat—partly because I was trying so hard to understand, but mostly because it was really great. It was a murder mystery, and I had NO idea who the murderer was until the very end when he revealed himself. SO GOOD! And all the actors were pretty great, although one guy could have projected better and another kind of overdid some things that I thought didn’t need to be overdone. But that’s just me being elitist. :P Anyways, I was glad that I sat next to Luis, because he understood it perfectly (of course) and could explain things I missed, and also because he enjoyed it, too, and made me feel like less of a freak for getting so excited about it.

On Sunday, we went to the Museo del Prado, the main art museum which houses a lot of the works of Goya, Velazquez, El Greco, and many other important Spanish and foreign artists. I really loved the Flemish art wing, especially the seascapes, and also seeing Goya’s work transform over his life and into his Black Period—when he went kind of crazy and his paintings are ACTUALLY terrifying. The eyes he paints are the most simple yet expressive eyes I’ve ever seen… it was captivating. Of course, the “Meninas” was fabulous, but I actually preferred some other artist’s paintings of little girls (why can’t I remember his name??) which expressed a lot more interest, motion, and emotion to me. Ok, I’ll stop being an art snob now. :P

When we got exhausted from art overload, Katie, Luis, Russell, Mary and I went to lunch (I had a delicious sandwich) and then wandered around in the sunshine eating ice cream and enjoying Madrid. We ran into a mariachi band in the plaza Puerta del Sol, and Luis got really excited and it was very cute. :) Then, we kind of just window-shopped and chatted until it was time to go get on the bus to come back to Granada.

I’m sorry I can’t be more excited or expressive about these descriptions, but I’m still in a bit of a weird emotional place and it’s hard for me to get excited about this trip right now. It doesn’t help that I have a bit of a cold, and I always get grumpy and paranoid when I’m feeling under the weather. It WAS a wonderful weekend altogether, though, and I had some great bonding conversations with Russell (who reminds me of Heath a bit) and some really fun moments with Katie and Luis, so all in all, I feel good about how it turned out. Although in hindsight, I should have bought that scarf… ;)

I hope everyone I love had a fantastic weekend, and maybe one a little less tumultuous than mine. Tomorrow I’m going to see a Flamenco show, which I’m super excited about, so stay tuned to hear about that!

Pura vida,
Kelsey

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

Cuevas, Flamenco, and Celebrities--Oh my!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Pura Vida,
Kelsey

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

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

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