Castles and Chupitos

Hola todos!

First of all, thanks so much for your comments!  I really appreciate them.  This past week has been absolutely insane (or nuts, as my new east coast friends would say), so I’ll try to record as much as possible.  I’m also planning on splitting this update into two posts because I have a LOT to say.

When I finally got to go to bed on Sunday night I thought I would sleep like the dead, but I actually woke up several times throughout the night.  I think the time change was still hard for my body despite the fact that I went 30 hours without sleep.  It was also about a million degrees in our room, so that didn’t help the situation.  When the front desk gave us our wakeup call I thought the room was burning down because it sounded like a fire alarm.  Of course I answered the phone in English and sounded like a total idiot… “Hello? Hello? Oh, I’m awake! Thank you! Uh, I mean gracias!”

I’m realizing that I’m going to spend the next month or so feeling stupid.

In any case, breakfast was amazing.  Fresh espresso, every kind of fresh and dried fruit you can imagine, pastries, omelets, tortillas de patatas, and fresh crusty bread.  The cheese here is stronger and creamier in the United States and it’s a good thing I won’t be able to afford brie when I move out of the hotel because I think I ate an entire round of it myself this morning.  There also appeared to be some jello shots and cheesecake, but I’m staying away from those for the time being.

On Tuesday morning we spent the day in classes for the entire “morning.”  I say this because the Spaniards have a very unique concept of time.  Breakfast takes place when you wake up, as in America, but it is what one of our guides described as “soft.”  This means that it isn’t normal to eat a large meal in the morning (outside of a free continental breakfast, of course).  Usually breakfast (desayuno) consists of coffee or tea, bread, and perhaps some fruit or yogurt.  The perception of the morning hours has to do with the fact that lunch in Spain is served at 2 or 3PM.  This means that it is very odd to say “good afternoon!” to someone at 1 or 2PM.  This also means that we were all starving by the time lunch finally came.

In Spain, lunch is the largest meal of the day, usually consisting of a first and second plate, followed by a dessert.  While I enjoyed this heartily on the first day, I’m beginning to realize that eating a large meal during the hottest part of the day just makes me feel uncomfortable for the next several hours.  However, one does not need to despair about spoiling their appetite for dinner due to the late lunches here in Spain, because this meal does not actually arrive until 9PM.  In addition to this, I often see people eating dinner in restaurants at 10 and 11PM as if it is perfectly normal.  To some it may seem unnatural to eat so close to the end of the day, but never fear!  The day is not over for Spaniards until at least 1AM, and it is very common for people to stay out in the streets until between 4 and 6AM.

As someone who fancies 11PM as a late bedtime, this will likely take some getting used to.

To return from this tangent, I will discuss what the past few days have been like.  Our first day in Sevilla consisted of a tour of El Alcázar de Sevilla.  The Spaniards call Alcázar the oldest palace in Europe because it is used by the Spanish royal family when they are in Sevilla, making it the oldest one in use.  I’m not sure if this makes much sense, but it was definitely an amazing place.  The palace was built by the Almohad people, a part of the Berber-Moorish dynasty who lived and prospered in southern Spain during the thirteenth century.  Since the palace was built, it has housed Muslim, Christian, and Jewish royalty, making its architecture extremely diverse and spectacular.  Throughout the rooms, baths, pools, and expansive gardens there are many iconic religious symbols that seem to contradict each other, and yet are carved from the same stone.  The gardens are also home to herds of peacocks, which roam the grounds and unleash occasional raucous calls. 

I also learned that Spanish language was heavily influenced by Arabic due to Muslim rule in the Iberian Peninsula from 711 to 1492.  Many words in Spanish begin with the prefix “al,” which comes from Arabic.  For example, the province of Andalucía (where I live) comes from “Al-Andalus,” the name of the area when it was part of Iberia.  This root is also found in Alcázar (the palace I visited), La Alhambra (a very famous monument in Granada), and hundreds of other simple words like algodón (cotton) and aldea (village).

After our tour of Alcázar, we went on a tour of the city.  This was pretty rough because we had been walking for several hours and the heat was almost debilitating.  Still, I was able to walk some of the beautiful streets of Sevilla and see many orange and pomegranate trees.  That night we went out for tapas at a restaurant with several of our program guides.  We were told to order several tapas for the table so that we could all try something new, which was a great idea.  We ate spinach croquets, tortillas de patatas, chicken curry, tomato mozzarella salad, and Mediterranean cous cous.  My friends and I also ordered pitchers of vino tinto, which is a lot like sangria.  After we had paid our bill we were told to wait for a surprise called “chupitos.”  As it turns out, chupitos are shots of alcohol, in this case honey rum.  It was delicious and made my blisters hurt a little less on the walk home.

The next day of orientation consisted of more classes and seminars in the morning, mostly about Spanish review and how to get around the city.  We were instructed on how to get a cell phone, open a bank account, and start looking for our own piso (apartment).  We had quite a bit of free time in the afternoon, so I walked around the city and laid in a park with Jess and Kerry.

This is probably a good time to introduce my new friends, as we’ve been doing a lot together lately.  Jess (center in the photo) is my roommate from Boston; she graduated from University of Massachusetts Dartmouth this year, so we’re the same age.  She’s gorgeous, hilarious, loves to have fun, so I’ve loved being her roommate.  We are both placed in Córdoba, but sadly she will be in the town of Cabra, which is about an hour from me.  I’m hoping we’ll still be able to see each other often though and I definitely want to be travel buddies.  Kerry (right) is a 24-year-old paralegal from Connecticut who was an English major at the University of Connecticut.  Despite her constant sarcasm, she is a seriously genuine and sweet person.  She’s also a knockout and we have trouble keeping the Spanish (and American) guys away from her when we go out on the town.  Kerry will be teaching in the province of Cádiz next month in La Puerta de Santa Maria.  My free-spirited friend is named Kelsey (left)—she’s twenty-five and has lived all over the United States, but most recently in Colorado.  She likes to spin fire poi for fun (check this out if you don’t know what it is: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WwoUhx9I2nA ) and brought all of her rock climbing gear to Spain at the expense of anything else.  She’s wonderful and will be teaching in Linares, Jaén.  I’ve been really fortunate to find these girls here, because despite Spain’s breathtaking beauty, it’s still really nice to have friends.

On Wednesday evening we went out for tapas with the program again, this time on large platters.  One of my favorites is a dish called tortilla de patatas, which I actually attempted to make with Ellen and Sara when I was back in Eugene.  It’s a potato and egg pie that is served here with sweet mayonnaise.  Maybe it’s because it reminds me a little of french fries and tater tots from home, but I could eat it forever.  After tapas we went to a flamenco show, which was incredible.  Flamenco is an Andalusian dance form that has a hotly contested history.  The dance itself is thought to come from Andalusian gypsies, but the dance itself has influences from all over the Mediterranean.  The traditional flamenco show that we saw included a Spanish guitar player, a singer, and one male and one female dancer.  Rhythmic foot stamping and emotional arm movements are major characteristics of the dance, which makes it very fun to watch.  It was an amazing show unlike anything I’ve ever seen.   

On our final night of orientation, the program hosted a farewell party for us at an Irish bar called Flaherty’s.  If you think this sounds a little weird for Spain, you’re correct.  The place was totally americanized and we were served chicken fingers and potato salad.  Of course shrimp skewers and Andalusian olives were also present, but the location still seemed a little weird.  Still, it was nice to mingle with everyone from the program before we parted ways.  We roamed mostly as a large group for the rest of the evening, ending up in the Plaza Alfalfa for a while where the special of the night was a 2 euro tequila chupito and beer combo.  Terrible idea.  After this, we were led by our guide Antonio to a discoteca about a hundred miles from our hotel, but luckily I wasn’t aware of this fact until I arrived there.  The only positive point of this situation is that cover charges are very uncommon in Andalucía, so I didn’t have to pay anything.  After avoiding overeager Spanish guys for an hour, we hailed a taxi at 4AM.  All I can say is that I was in serious need of a siesta the next day.

My host family came to pick me up the next day, and while I will definitely explain more about them in my next post, I can assure you that they are beyond amazing.  I’ll try to post more tomorrow, but until then, hasta luego!

Touchdown!

This is a travel update that will have to be uploaded when I can access a wireless connection, but I wanted to record a few things before I forget them due to my delirious state of exhaustion.  I am writing this post in an extremely sleep-deprived and jetlagged state, so please forgive any glaring mistakes.  So far, it’s been 26 hours (and counting) since I woke up in Olympia on Sunday, and I have gotten no speakable sleep since then.

 

The good news, however, is that I am finally in Spain!  And despite the fact that I’ve barely seen anything, it’s more beautiful and perfect than I even could have imagined it.  But we’ll get to that in a minute—first, the flights that brought me here…

I began at Seatac, where after a series of tearful and difficult goodbyes, I navigated security and found my terminal.  It turns out that Lufthansa is a fantastic German airline with friendly staff and good food, which was a pleasant surprise.  I was seated next to a friendly middle-aged man named Adani Mohammed Said.  I know this, because he talked to me for six hours straight throughout our ten hour flight.  He was flying to the UAE on business as he does every three months.  While I did eventually tire of his exuberance, the high points of the journey included him teaching me magic tricks, reading my palm, and literally forcing his phone number on me and making me swear to call him if I ever got into trouble.  This is because, as he explained to me, “I can tell you are a good girl with a good heart.  We are good friends, no?  You are a lucky girl.  I take care of my friends.  You call me whenever you need me.  You ask for me anywhere—you say you are a friend of Adani Mohammed Said.”

In any case, I was able to escape his constant stream of dialogue with my noise cancelling headphones for a few hours, but the trip mostly consisted of me smiling demurely and nodding while he talked about bizarre things and how I was a good person.  Also, Quincey you were right about us going over the poles.  So cool!

When I arrived in Frankfurt, I bid Mr. Said farewell and hurried off the plane, not before I was presented with a single red rose from the extremely German flight attendants.  The gesture was very sweet, but I must confess that I ditched the rose before going through my next security point (but not before an airport worker asked me if I had a secret admirer).

I learned two important things during my time in Frankfurt:

1) I need to learn how to read international time.

2) Sleeping in a dress is difficult.

While I didn’t wear the leggings I brought for any flight, I did decide (in a fit of sleep deprivation, of course) that it would be a good idea to put them on while sitting in the middle of the airport.  I’m fairly certain that I scandalized a German businessman, but it’s not my fault that the Germans don’t believe in bathrooms closer than a mile from every terminal.  So, after my amazing wardrobe feat, I sprawled out on three seats and dozed for about 45 minutes, which could have been longer if I understood international time.  Alas, I headed for my terminal an hour early and by that time was too awake to get any more rest, mostly because my gate was change THREE TIMES in a period of an hour.  At least I got some exercise?

My flight from Frankfurt to Barcelona was fantastic.  First of all, because the flight was under two hours we cruised just high enough to be able to see all of the German, Swiss, and French countrysides, as well as the Mediterranean.  Secondly, my seat partner was amazing.  He was a thirty-something Spaniard named Rafael who was returning from a trip to Alaska with some of his buddies.  This was his first trip to the states and he loved it, especially getting to see bears up close.  However, the best part of our interaction was the fact that he only spoke Spanish and French, so were forced to communicate for two hours in Spanish!  I was pretty awful but he was very patient, and he told me a lot about Andaluciá.  In addition to beginning our conversation with kissing both my cheeks, he also told me that Sevilla and Córdoba are his favorite cities in Andaluciá.  He was from a smaller city about two hours from Barcelona, and told me that if I ever found myself there I should look him up.  Sociable and not creepy—the best kind of seatmate!

When I got off the plane in Barcelona, I was blown away.  The airport was immaculate and everyone there was friendly and fashionable.  My body was so confused by this point that I ended up ordering a Greek yogurt, a bag of chips, and a mini bottle of wine… potentially one of the weirdest meals I’ve eaten.  I then moved from seat to seat waiting for my gate to be announced and attempting to doze off while holding my carryon in my lap.

By the time my gate was assigned, I was so exhausted that I could barely stand.  I found myself sitting slumped against the floor drooling on my purse in the middle of a snooze before pulling myself together.  At this point, I saw two young American women who looked suspiciously as exhausted and confused as I did.  They were talking over a Spanish dictionary, so I approached them and asked if they were part of the CIEE program.  Their names were Kelly and Emily, and to my delight, they CIEE participants, so we planned to get a taxi together once we arrived in Sevilla.

The flight from Barcelona was packed and hot.  Everyone around me was literally screaming in Spanish, and most people didn’t seem to mind the rule about turning off electronics before take-off.  Two five-year-old twins were seated in the row behind me, which left me alternating between feeling charmed and homicidal.  To be clear, Spanish speaking children are adorable, especially when singing, but nothing is really amusing after 30 hours without sleep.

I arrived in Sevilla on time, and thankfully so did my luggage.  Kelly, Emily, and I met two more teachers who were part of our program and the five of us proceeded into the heat to find a taxi.  We made it to the hotel unscathed, despite the fact that seatbelts are apparently an afterthought in Spain, as mine wasn’t even accessible.  Still, we paid 10 euro per person for the ride so I felt pretty lucky.

When we arrived in the lobby the coordinator, Brittney, told us to take our bags up to our rooms and then come out to the patio.  I found my room without trouble, but spent the next ten minutes wondering what ridiculous test I had been given.  In Spain electricity is really expensive, so apparently hotels require patrons to insert room keys into a slot by the door in order to get electricity to work.  Long story short, I was glad to have my flashlight.

Awaiting us on the patio was a welcome cocktail party.  We had sangria and various appetizers, most of which included fish.  I was so exhausted that I could barely eat (which is a rarity for me) but everything that I tasted was amazing.  I met tons of people, including two girls from Atlanta who were both placed in Córdoba as well, but they aren’t in the city like I am.  When I went to my room afterwards, I met my roommate Jessica, from Boston.  She’s really nice and is placed in Córdoba too, in Cabra.  So far everyone is very friendly and I’m really excited.

Now exhaustion has now overcome, so more later!

Just Like a Circus

I'm beginning to feel like I'm a part of a Britney Spears song, and not in a good way (sorry to those of you reading this who belong to a generation on which this analogy is lost).  Tomorrow is my last day in the United States for at least a year.  Despite my frenzied to-do lists, I have a never-ending queue of tasks that seems to be constantly revolving.  Will it ever end?

On a bright note, I had several great blessings today.  I was given travel advice, prayers, camaraderie and hilarious stories from a few very dear friends.  You may find this a perfect moment to comment on why I can't seem to get anything done, but I will respond with the fact that it's the little things in life that matter much more than the to-do lists.

Regardless of my inability to tie up every single loose end, I will arrive at SeaTac on Sunday morning ready to take the longest flight imaginable.  For those of you who would like to know, I will be flying from Seattle, WA to Frankfurt, Germany.  The flight will be about ten hours, if nothing goes wrong and I'm doing my math correctly.  From there, I fly to Barcelona and then on to Sevilla.  I'll arrive in Sevilla at 8:30PM local time, at which point I'll find a taxi and head to my hotel for a welcome meeting.  I have been told that I may be given a tiny free bottle of wine on my Lufthansa flight.  This could possibly be the only thing that will get me through this ordeal.

I'm beginning to feel increasingly nostalgic about leaving my home.  It's hard not to when I live in the most beautiful place in the world.  I truly can't wait to see Europe and travel the globe, but I know that I won't be able to stay away from the Pacific Northwest forever.  When I get to wake up every morning to views like this, I'll never feel anything but content.

It's now time to repack my suitcase once again because I forgot about my load of laundry in the dryer.  It is both comforting and terrifying to know that the next time I update this blog will be when I have begun my travels.  At least I'll hopefully have more interesting things to report at that point.  Until then!