A Bit of Miscellaneous News...

• I tried to pay for dinner with a Mexican peso.  Uhhh, why was that in my purse??
• My grammar teacher frequently says in English “I’m going to cry” if we make a “silly” mistakes in Spanish.  After one particularly big student blunder, he moaned “Give me a salad full of anthrax”
• My English writing has more and more mistakes now-- rechecking is essential.  A sample of writing to Maddi Frick:

                                                      

I go home the 19 of December. Whoa so weird, I really have spent a lot of time in a Spanish speaking country. I make so many more errores in English now... errors** and I am GOING** home DECEMBER** 19th (19 of December, so much of a Spanish influence right there)

  

            That's pretty bad. I’m skeered to read  over my past blogs...  

•  On the same note,  It’s weird for me to say my cellphone number in English. In my mind, I hear seis-zero-tres-seis-tres-zero-zero-cinco-dos 
• This really has nothing to do with Spain... Read on if you care.  I was going to google "why doesn’t the blogger video uploader work".  In this order, the Google pull down listed this:

Why doesn’t he call me

Why doesn’t he like me

Why doesn’t teller talk

Why doesn’t alcohol freeze

Why doesn’t he love me

Why doesn’t anyone like me

           Is there something wrong here?

• An old man serenaded me in the park, told me I was beautiful, and then tried to kiss me on the lips.  That's when I left. 
• I bought a ring in Mexico that has the Lord's Prayer in Spanish.  Whenever I wear it and am waiting around, I practice reciting it.  Today, I went to Mass and was so excited to be able to recite at least one of the million prayers along with the Spaniards.
• And finally, I must comment on the nasty rat-tail dreads are in style here.  The worst is seeing a a balding dude with short hair on the sides and three dreads in the back.  I’m all for dreads, but draw the line somewhere!
• There are two things that I did not give justice to in my past blogs:  the Siesta and the Cathedral.  Both of them I love and both of them are in my life almost daily.

The Siesta:

I am going to bet that I am physically healthier because of this cultural ritual.  While not every Spanaird actually sleeps during the siesta, everyone takes time out of the day to relax.  Really seriously, the majority of stores close and the majority of people disappear.   There are less people on the street at 4 PM than at 4 AM (Trust me, I’ve walked the street during both times :) )  All of the students love the siesta and talk about how great it is to be encouraged to take a nap EVERY day.  We joke about marathon siestas.  While I’ve only slept a 4 hour siesta, I’ve heard of a 6 hour siesta.  Of course, that kind of siesta isn’t what my busy Spanish mom is taking.  But, a 2 hour siesta is common for the Spaniards of my age who stay out until 6 AM on the weekends (Thursday is the weekend too.  And sometimes Wednesday, Tuesday, and Monday are too!).

The Cathedral:

I’m not exaggerating about how much I love the Cathedral.  The more that I look at it, the more that I love it.   It has surpassed the park as being my favorite place in Sevilla. I love to think about the history of it because it speaks a lot of the power and wealth of the Catholic church.  While, there are some parts that have damage, I think that only adds character to it. I’ve already mentioned that it gets even better at night.  That’s when  se me cae la baba (my mouth drops).  The lights create shadows and it gives me the feeling that it’s glowing. What’s more is that there are always horse drawn carriages sitting in front of it (The title picture is in front of it).   I’m so happy and so lucky that I will be walking by it every school day for the next 9 weeks :)

Rock of Gibraltar

This is old news, yet worth the while.  The day trip to the Rock of Gibraltar was wonderful yet unfortunately, ridiculously short.  We planned our trip on the premise that the bus ride was 2 hours long.  Unbeknownst to us, we would spent 8 hours on the bus and only 2.75 hours in Great Britain (no typo, it’s a British territory).  Still, it was beautiful and funny things still happened:

Number one:  Amber proved to be the definition of a power walker (Pump it, girl).  I physically could not walk as fast as her, sometimes jogging to catch up.  Molly and I laughed despite Amber telling us we’d otherwise miss our bus.  Here’s Molly trying to sneak a picture in.

Number two: The apes. After our mad dash to the top, we first saw the signs and then we saw the devils.  Oh they’re cute and all, but tricky and aggressive.  As we stood looking at them, one jumped off the rail, ran at a lady, seized her plastic bag, and ran away.  How in the world did it know there was food in there?  I don’t know, but I was genuinely scared as it threatened anyone who dared to reclaim the goodies.

A quick summary, it was really beautiful and fun and I’m glad to have gone.  There are some places that just beg you to take a second to think.  Tessa, Carly, Mattie, Jill, I was missing you and thinking you would have gotten a kick out of those apes.  Maybe its better you weren’t there, Carly. Together, we’d  have been more daring to tease those mean things.  Ha, ha.

Lagos, Portugal

I already mentioned that I forgot my passport and had to take a different bus than Amber and Molly. However, some good did come of my absentmindedness; I ran into the registrar of our school CIEE, Carmen, AND I made two friends. First of all, Carmen and I chatted in Spanish for a long time about classes, the difficulties of learning a language, and why she thinks I should stay the whole year in Spain (I wish). Also, we talked about the two English speaking two boys on the left of us- “I think they are from the U.S., but you would know better than I would”... No Carmen, they’re def from Britain. But I had to make sure, so I asked them. Looking surprised, they replied that Luke was from Bristol, England and Mat had been living and working in England, but was from Australia. [They told me later they were surprised when I first spoke in perfect English because they thought I was a Spaniard. I love that. Me: “So you don’t speak Spanish...” The boys, with a smile: “What more do you need know besides how to ask for water, bread, and beer...”]


They were free floating, backpacking in Spain and Portugal with no real plan while in Lagos and with no hostel lined up for that night. I told them that Molly and Amber had already checked in to one and that the two could take a look if they liked. Getting off the bus, we met up with Molly and Amber. In Spanish, we decided together if the boys were sketch or not. Gosh, I love secrets. How great is it that they walked along side of us without understand a word we said. In this manner, we decided their fate for the night: they were acceptable companions.


More than acceptable, they were in the top 10 for good-boys-that-your-mother-would-approve-of and we ended up spending the entire weekend with them. Us girls really appreciated having them with us because one, they were fun, nice, laid back, and willing to do anything and everything. Two, they scared off all the creepers at the bars. Hip, hip, hurray for the male friend component. Three, we shared cultural differences from our three different English speaking countries:

• What does "pants" mean to you? Are they what you wear OVER underwear or AS underwear? In England, pants= boxers. Hey, Luke, your pants are showing...
• Care for a cup of tea anyone? was a frequent question the boys asked us. You know, I could do quite well in England. They drink 3-4 cups a day and I drink 5-6 during the winter. Excessive? Yeah, thanks. I’ve heard that one a few times.
• Mat learned how to fist pump.
• I also taught him about the cultural of northern Minnesota. Blaze orange girls with a gun are culturally acceptable.
• I learned that the equivalent of “it was fantastic” in Australia is “it was a ripper” or pearler/belter.
• I also learned about Australian football. Wikipedia that—it’s crazy business! http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Australian_rules_football

The weekend was fantabulous. We lied on the beach and stared at the bluest, most delicious water. At the last minute, the two boys and I joined on Molly and Amber’s kayaking adventure. It was unbelievable, absolutely fantastic. I couldn’t stop taking pictures, yet feared dropping the camera in the water. So I zipped, unzipped, rezipped, reunzipped the 80% waterproof bag a million times (80%... that’s comforting in itself, no? :S). Obviously, ocean kayaking is kind of unpredictable because of the waves. At one point, the water pulled back and Luke and I were beached precariously and completely out of the water on top of rock. Yeaaaah, man. Also, we scooted underneath bridges of rock and went into caves inaccessible except by water.
It didn’t end there! After 45 ninutes of kayaking, we pulled off at a remote beach surrounded by tall rocks and our guided whipped out snorkels. How can I explain that underwater world in words?? You’ve all seen it on the Discovery Channel (Shark Week, Amber? hahaha). But have you seen it? Have you touched it? The sea anemones are beautiful beyond words. They sway in the water with their fusion colored limbs that seize your hand when you brush them (I hope I’m not dying from thousands of poison injections to my hand). After my fingers turned white from the cold, I swam to shore nearly dying again on the way in. The sharp rocks, the barrier between the land and the earth, proved quite the challenge. Painfully, I stumbled over/was thrown upon them by the waves and eventually reached the shore. Once on shore, our guide, Luke, Mat, and I did a little rockclimbing. Ouch. If only I had had my rockclimbing shoes!!!!!




It was a good weekend. We ate Portuguese food (thumbs up). I met two dudes who spoke 5 languages (I’m so jealous). I jumped on a stranger’s horse who was riding around in the very center of town :). I did a bit of shopping, a little bar hopping, more ice cream eating, and more jamming to We Speak No Americano and Stereo Love. And then, too quickly, our weekend came to end and we had to say goodbye to our boys. I hate goodbyes. I hate goodbyes. Hope to see you again, Mat and Luke.

The Epic Bus Ride

Don’t you hate getting on the bus and sitting next to someone who is eating the smelliest sandwich there is on the face of the earth? The sardine sandwich, is quite delicious, but is clearly not bus appropriate. Many people. Pungent smells. Extended periods of time. You get the point. So to all my fellow bus riders, I’m sorry. I was hungry. All my mom gave me was that sandwich and two hardboiled eggs. I did have you in mind, though, when I ate it, sneaking bites and then rewrapping it as quickly as possible. I also thought of you when I decided not to crack my hardboiled egg on the bus window. It would have been weird, I know. So instead, I tried to crack it by squeezing it. Of course, OF COURSE!, it would bust in my hands what was I THINKING. I dunno, I was exhausted at this point, really exhausted. Despite this mess and that it was one of those maddening HBE (whose shell sticks to the white), I ate it by meticulously picking the shells fragments from the egg --and sometimes my mouth.



Getting to the point, everything takes more effort when you travel. It takes more effort to get on a bus for four hours with the conductor yelling in Portuguese. It takes more effort to buy the little necessities because I can’t tell if crema is lotion or conditioner. It takes more effort to go to the post-office because I have to find it. Using Euros is painful and I always spend more than I think. I think to myself, the Euro costs a bit more than a dollar. But, 36 € isn’t just a little more than 36 dollars. Its 50 dollars!!! Really, what I need is a Jenn Robia to organize my life, to remind me to bring my passport to Portugal. Yes, I forgot it, missed my bus for the 3rd time, and payed for a 2nd ticket (I’m not dumb, I promise, just disorganized).



This is when traveling gets frustrating. The thing about studying aboard is that you are always “traveling”. Well, not exactly... right now I’m just sitting here in “my bedroom”. Still, the anxiety builds up and you start saying clichés like “life isn’t always rainbows and butterflies” to yourself in the mirror. Tonight, I got really homesick and was alone and lonely. I laid in my bed stressing that I have almost licked the bottom of the barrel of my life savings. I became aware that I was clenching the side of my bed and had to consciously relax, r.e.l.a.x.... That was all I could take and I made that international mommy/daddy call even though I was conscious of the Euros, I mean minutes, that I was spending on the phone. They told me what they were up to and I could just picture them in the horse field, Mom stroking Dance’s tail and Dad patting her muzzle. Kathy McKweon was in the background taking pictures of my beast-dog Riley. I felt OK after calling them, but surprisingly, felt even better after blogging.



Sometimes, I wonder why I do blog about this all. Why do I let you know how vulnerable I am and how forgetful I can be? Why do I expose myself like this? I guess a lot of it is that I feel better to write it down and to share it. Also, I feel better being honest with people instead of watering it down (which can get me in trouble when I’m inconsiderately blunt). But most importantly, it comes from the trust that I have in you, my readers. Thank you for all of the wonderful feedback that you have given me about my blog. I would probably continue writing it even if you told me nothing. But I’m certain, absolutely positive that without your praises I would have edited out a lot of the real emotion, which I consider the meat of my writing. So again, I appreciate hearing your thoughts. Thanks Dan. Thanks Josie. Thanks Landon, Jill, Carly, Kitty, Courtney G., Cindy S., Sarah C, Elle, Maddi. Thanks to my Old Breakfast Companion ;). Thank you Ricardo Alejandro Castro Siller (you have always been so, so sweet to me. T extraño mucho). Thank you everyone.

Although, I can’t say that I feel 100% better now, at least I’m tired enough to go to sleep :)

Huelga General !!

All of the hype and then it finally came. The huge public banners, the fliers littered all over, and the newspaper articles built the anticipation of it. The first two weeks I had wondered what was 29-S? It was spray painted everrrywhere-- on sidewalks, trains, buildings, bridges. Soon enough, I made the connection between 29-S, the 29th of September, and the upcoming General Strike. I was pretty interested because I had never seen a strike before (unless you count the 10 people with signs in podunk Bemidji).



Before the actual strike, I talked to several Spaniards on their views of it, whether they were going to go, and whether they thought it was a good idea. The same ideas were pretty recurrent: the unemployment is terrible, the economy is awful, drug and alcohol use is up, and the youth are in trouble (or are trouble?). Some weren’t going to strike because they had to work. One girl wasn’t interested in the strike expect for being enthusiastic that it cancelled her classes (haha). Everyone seemed a little hesitant, not sure whether to support it or not. Everyone was unhappy with the government’s austerity measures and believed something had to be done, but would a strike fix it?



The strike turned out relatively tame in Sevilla and they even paused to take their siesta ;). There was no rioting just peaceful marching. Even still, it was a little overwhelming. To see so many people crawling towards me with their red signs made me feel like I’d slowly be rolled over backwards and mashed. I felt really little and foreign because I knew that I didn’t have a real grasp on the issues. It wasn’t just a buildup of the past month (as it was for me) because some of those people had been out of work for months and some of those people were very discontent with the government.



It might have been tame in Sevilla, but look what happened throughout the rest Spain, particularly Barecelona:


According to Telegraph.co.uk:
--The airport was hit the hardest. Two-thirds of all flights to and from Spanish airports disrupted.
--80% of high-speed train trips, all mid-distance, and 75% of commuter trains were cancelled
-- 90 per cent of taxi drivers in Barcelona were on strike
--According to Spanish Unions, more than half the workforce (10 million) went on strike. That’s “unquestionable success" in their eyes.

Where does the tension come from?
--Spain has 20 percent unemployment. Those under 30 are particularly hit hard and one in every three person is unemployed.
--Of Spaniards in their thirties, more than half still rely on financial support from their parents
-- “The government of Jose Luis Rodriguez Zapatero introduced severe austerity measures including the unpopular labour-market overhaul in a bid to bring down the budget deficit from 11 per cent last year to within the 3 per cent of GDP limit set by the European Union by 2013.”

That’s sounds pretty rotten to me.



http://www.telegraph.co.uk/travel/destinations/europe/spain/8032647/General-strike-in-Spain-to-protest-against-austerity-measures.html