Alhambra
The gaze
Alhambra day
Girls, rando, and Alhambra at night
Flamenco dancers
sábado, 28 de marzo de 2009
Long Weekend in Andalucia
Just thinking about starting this blog post makes me want to throw up-the same feeling I usually have regarding the debriefing after every excursion because there is so much to tell. This excursion, however, is especially challenging as it was 5 days long and my absolute favorite of them all. Brace yourself.
We left the ‘Manc at 8:30 am Thursday morning and with three stops, we arrived in Granada at yet another beautiful 4-star hotel around 4:30 pm. Andalucia (southern region of Spain) isn’t exactly around the corner. At 5:30, we visited El Barrio del Albaycín where we enjoyed an incredible view of La Alhambra (Arabic Palace where Ferdinand and Isabel lived at one point) and snow-capped mountains in the distance. It wasn’t long before we discovered that Granada is a hippie’s paradise. There were packs of young adults in MC Hammer pants gathered together smoking hash, drinking forties, and selling beads.
At 9 pm, we enjoyed a fabulous buffet dinner complete with everything from buttery salmon and pasta to green olives and an assortment of cheeses. Besides the 50-some-year-old waiter hitting on at least 5 of us girls during the course of our meal, I’d say it wasn’t too shabby.
Later that night, I popped open my finest 69-cent white wine (that’s got to be a record…I’m sure the majority of that was to pay for the bottle) and then headed out to a local bar. My highlight of the evening was meeting some middle-aged Spaniards and being told that my Spanish was almost perfect. Pick-up line or not, I’ll take “almost perfect” any day. It’s so cool being able to have a debate about why Pais Vasco wants to separate from Spain and how their educational system is corrupt and real topics of substance in another language. We also met a football player from Kansas (who signed with Dartmouth!) and 3 girls from Denmark who spoke English very well. It’s like you don’t even have to try and you end up with new friends everyday here.
Viernes, el 20:
Remembering that incredible 70-foot long buffet was the only thing that dragged Kristina (my roommate for Granada) and I out of bed for breakfast at 9am the next morning. And it didn’t leave me disappointed. We were out of the hotel by 10:15am to visit la Capilla Real, a cathedral where Ferdinand, Isabel, among other Catholic kings and queens were buried. Next, we headed to la Catedral de Granada, because you can never have too many cathedrals, right? Besides the fact that I felt like I was in barefoot in the Alps the entire time we were inside, it was really beautifully adorned with ornate patterns of white and gold.
As soon as we were given free time, all the girls flocked to what I like to call “Hippie Street with an Arabic twist.” This is where the beauty of strong Arabic influence in Andalucia and the Hippie culture had a baby. I was surrounded by tie-dye dresses and handbags, jewelery, jeweled tapestries, shoes, bongs (ha), and more. Colleen and I left Alex alone for one minute and found her spending her last food stipend on a pair of green metallic sandals. This is how seductive Hippie Street is…never go shopping here alone. With help, I managed to leave with buying only one hippie sundress for 12 euros.
Around 2:30, we stopped to enjoy a delicious menu del dia at an outdoor café at the top of the street. Arriving back at the hotel, we slipped on our bathing suits (a harsh taste of the reality of what the Spanish lifestyle will do to your body) and joined a large portion of our group lounging by the beautiful outdoor pool. Later, we returned to our respective rooms to siesta, shower, and get ready for our evening activities.
At 7:30 we met up in the lobby to make our way to a flamenco dinner show. QUE GUAY! The food was pretty disappointing, but the dancing was amazing. I was fortunate enough to snag a seat six inches from the stage. This position, however, proved to have its less fortunate aspects as well when I was very close to being kicked in the face a number of times. I’d also like to send out a warning that flamenco is much more beautiful if you don’t look at the dancer’s face. Each one wore the most pain-ridden, constipated, spastic expressions on their faces the entire time. But maybe this isn’t much better than being told to plaster a ridiculously huge smile on your face in all my ballet performances. There was even a male flamenco dancer…I wonder if they feel the same way about men like him as Americans do male cheerleaders. All joking aside, though, he was hands-down the most talented. Alex and I also enjoyed being stared down by one of the creepy musicians during the majority of the performance. I’ll be sure to put up a picture…the gaze is INTENSE, but also pretty typical of Spanish men.
By the end of the meal, I was pretty stuffed and decided to casually “go UB” (aka UnButton my pants) underneath the tablecloth to allow some breathing room. It’s a sad reality, but this has become almost commonplace since arriving in Spain. Of course when going UB, it’s imperative that one remembers to re-B before getting up from the table again, and that night I neglected to do exactly this. Turning around to push in my chair, feeling strangely loose and free, I presented my un-belted, unbuttoned self to the party of 20-some people at the table behind us. Relatively unfazed, I simply adjusted and walked away. After feeling uncomfortable and out of place, misunderstood, and confused everyday for the past two and a half months, you’d be amazed at how much it now takes for me to get embarrassed.
Sábado el 21:
Enjoying the bountiful buffet breakfast for one last time, we packed up and left the hotel at 9:15 am to visit la Alhambra. This was by far my favorite part of the entire weekend, and I have the pictures to prove it. We spent a total of four hours roaming the gardens outside and the incredible Arabic archways inside. The perfectly clear 70-degree weather also helped add to its already seemingly fake appearance.
At 2:30, Jesus dragged us out to load the bus and head to Córdoba. The only site we visited here was la Mezquita de Córdoba (Mosque of Cordoba). Once again, we oo-ed and awed over the red-striped archways and the beautiful Arabic architecture. After briefing exploring the quaint town, we broke for ice cream and re-boarded the bus at 6:30.
Arriving in Sevilla, I almost had the wind knocked out of me as we entered the hotel. Suspended lighting, atrium-style levels…there was even a mini forest and large fountain! Hombre, we’re spoiled.
Mary (my Sevilla roommate) and I took quick showers and changed to be ready for a group dinner downstairs at 9:30. Sitting at a table with Danny, Thomas, and Alex, we enjoyed yet another incredible meal, which began with the closest thing to an American salad I’ve seen since being in Spain. While this still included iceberg lettuce, there was also corn, tomatoes, hard-boiled egg, tuna, and olives, and honey mustard dressing. After bacaloa (white salty fish) with tomato sauce and peppers, warm bread, and chocolate flan with whipped cream, and café con leche, I was full as a tick. I probably would have gone UB too, but I happened to be wearing a dress.
Tired from a long day of travel, most of us decided to enjoy a low-key evening, enjoying the luxury of free wireless Internet and the “champagne” shower setting.
Domingo el 22:
Another beautiful breakfast at 8:30 the next morning, complete with warm chocolate croissants, jamon, cheese, kiwis, yogurt, and CEREAL!! Although this particular selection didn’t quite measure up to Honey Bunches of Oats, excursions are always such a treat being able to eat cereal again. We are in college after all…it’s just not healthy to go this long without any.
At 9:30, we left the hotel to visit los Reales Alcázares. This was another incredible Arabic palace with equally incredible gardens, complete with tiled walkways, railings wrapped in lilacs, fountains, and ducks. This was yet another place we’ve visited in Spain where you could literally close your eyes, spin in random circles snapping your camera and still end up with professional looking pictures.
At 12:30, we left this Eden for la Plaza de España, which looked more like a semi-circle than a plaza to me. Semi-circle de España…really has a ring to it, doesn’t it. Besides the plethora of fans and scarves and souveniers being sold in la Plaza, I was drawn to the major cities in Spain represented on the perimeter. It was cool to see all the places we’d visited, decorated in their own ornately blue-tiled cove, our favorite of course being the ‘Manc itself.
At 2, we broke for free time, where Sasha, Alex, Kelley, Colleen, Emily, Leah, and I discovered an incredible Cuban café. We sat outside under umbrellas for 2 hours (in the name of Spain), sipping mojitos and gorging ourselves with Arroz a la Cubana, chicken and guacamole, and fried eggplant. After lunch, we met up with Thomas, Danny, and Kristina down by the water and decided to hop on an hour-long boat tour together. Although the tour information was pretty lame, it was a fun way to wrap up the afternoon.
The hotel bus picked us up at 6:15. After showering, checking emails, and changing, most of the group headed into the city once again for a tapas crawl. This is when you start at one tapas (like appetizers) bar, order one or two tapas and a glass of wine or a beer, and walk to the next tapas place to repeat the process. This is what the Spaniards do anyway, but being typical Americans, we filled up at the first place and only made it to one other bar for drinks afterwards. Activities like going out for tapas or for drinks or sitting in the plaza have become so much apart of my everyday life that I sometimes have to step back to remember how cool this actually is! I loved walking down those streets of Sevilla at 11pm, seeing people of all ages standing at outdoor tables, talking and laughing over food and drink. You can really feel the life pulsing through the veins of Spain.
Lunes el 23:
Breakfast at 8 the next morning, we reluctantly left Sevilla for Mérida at 9:15.
Arriving around 12:00 p.m, we visited a Roman amphitheater and theater. GUAY! So much of it is still so well preserved and the parts that were not were a result of Visigodos and other people groups coming taking the materials and re-using them for their own structures. I am truly blown away each time I hear about the Romans and their innovative ideas in engineering and architecture, especially when in our day an age it’s so easy to look back and label past civilizations as foolish compared to ourselves.
At 1:30 we were given free time, knowing that we wouldn’t be leaving again until 3:30. If you knew how small of a nothing town Mérida is, you would have been a little panicked too. We just about bought out the Spanish subway and the adjacent ice cream shop, both of which were being worked by one poor frantic man. Our presence had probably temporarily doubled the population of Mérida. After lunch and ice cream, Alex, Will, Danny, and I walked around stopping soon after for a café con leche at another outdoor café. I’ll probably have to slowly wean myself off of this café lifestyle before returning back to the states☹
We hopped back on good old Tres Pilares and returned home in Sal a little before 8pm. Before I conclude this extremely long post, I’d like to explain a little something about our love-hate relationship with our excursion bus, Tres Pilares, which has accumulated a wide variety of nicknames like “Tres P,” “T cubed,” and just plain “TP.” Driven by dear old Lucio (who not even the fluent girl in our group can understand), Tres P constantly smells of feet and BO, lacks ventilation, bathroom and legroom of any kind. And yet, we’ve become strangely attached to this disgusting bus over the course of our excursions.
We left the ‘Manc at 8:30 am Thursday morning and with three stops, we arrived in Granada at yet another beautiful 4-star hotel around 4:30 pm. Andalucia (southern region of Spain) isn’t exactly around the corner. At 5:30, we visited El Barrio del Albaycín where we enjoyed an incredible view of La Alhambra (Arabic Palace where Ferdinand and Isabel lived at one point) and snow-capped mountains in the distance. It wasn’t long before we discovered that Granada is a hippie’s paradise. There were packs of young adults in MC Hammer pants gathered together smoking hash, drinking forties, and selling beads.
At 9 pm, we enjoyed a fabulous buffet dinner complete with everything from buttery salmon and pasta to green olives and an assortment of cheeses. Besides the 50-some-year-old waiter hitting on at least 5 of us girls during the course of our meal, I’d say it wasn’t too shabby.
Later that night, I popped open my finest 69-cent white wine (that’s got to be a record…I’m sure the majority of that was to pay for the bottle) and then headed out to a local bar. My highlight of the evening was meeting some middle-aged Spaniards and being told that my Spanish was almost perfect. Pick-up line or not, I’ll take “almost perfect” any day. It’s so cool being able to have a debate about why Pais Vasco wants to separate from Spain and how their educational system is corrupt and real topics of substance in another language. We also met a football player from Kansas (who signed with Dartmouth!) and 3 girls from Denmark who spoke English very well. It’s like you don’t even have to try and you end up with new friends everyday here.
Viernes, el 20:
Remembering that incredible 70-foot long buffet was the only thing that dragged Kristina (my roommate for Granada) and I out of bed for breakfast at 9am the next morning. And it didn’t leave me disappointed. We were out of the hotel by 10:15am to visit la Capilla Real, a cathedral where Ferdinand, Isabel, among other Catholic kings and queens were buried. Next, we headed to la Catedral de Granada, because you can never have too many cathedrals, right? Besides the fact that I felt like I was in barefoot in the Alps the entire time we were inside, it was really beautifully adorned with ornate patterns of white and gold.
As soon as we were given free time, all the girls flocked to what I like to call “Hippie Street with an Arabic twist.” This is where the beauty of strong Arabic influence in Andalucia and the Hippie culture had a baby. I was surrounded by tie-dye dresses and handbags, jewelery, jeweled tapestries, shoes, bongs (ha), and more. Colleen and I left Alex alone for one minute and found her spending her last food stipend on a pair of green metallic sandals. This is how seductive Hippie Street is…never go shopping here alone. With help, I managed to leave with buying only one hippie sundress for 12 euros.
Around 2:30, we stopped to enjoy a delicious menu del dia at an outdoor café at the top of the street. Arriving back at the hotel, we slipped on our bathing suits (a harsh taste of the reality of what the Spanish lifestyle will do to your body) and joined a large portion of our group lounging by the beautiful outdoor pool. Later, we returned to our respective rooms to siesta, shower, and get ready for our evening activities.
At 7:30 we met up in the lobby to make our way to a flamenco dinner show. QUE GUAY! The food was pretty disappointing, but the dancing was amazing. I was fortunate enough to snag a seat six inches from the stage. This position, however, proved to have its less fortunate aspects as well when I was very close to being kicked in the face a number of times. I’d also like to send out a warning that flamenco is much more beautiful if you don’t look at the dancer’s face. Each one wore the most pain-ridden, constipated, spastic expressions on their faces the entire time. But maybe this isn’t much better than being told to plaster a ridiculously huge smile on your face in all my ballet performances. There was even a male flamenco dancer…I wonder if they feel the same way about men like him as Americans do male cheerleaders. All joking aside, though, he was hands-down the most talented. Alex and I also enjoyed being stared down by one of the creepy musicians during the majority of the performance. I’ll be sure to put up a picture…the gaze is INTENSE, but also pretty typical of Spanish men.
By the end of the meal, I was pretty stuffed and decided to casually “go UB” (aka UnButton my pants) underneath the tablecloth to allow some breathing room. It’s a sad reality, but this has become almost commonplace since arriving in Spain. Of course when going UB, it’s imperative that one remembers to re-B before getting up from the table again, and that night I neglected to do exactly this. Turning around to push in my chair, feeling strangely loose and free, I presented my un-belted, unbuttoned self to the party of 20-some people at the table behind us. Relatively unfazed, I simply adjusted and walked away. After feeling uncomfortable and out of place, misunderstood, and confused everyday for the past two and a half months, you’d be amazed at how much it now takes for me to get embarrassed.
Sábado el 21:
Enjoying the bountiful buffet breakfast for one last time, we packed up and left the hotel at 9:15 am to visit la Alhambra. This was by far my favorite part of the entire weekend, and I have the pictures to prove it. We spent a total of four hours roaming the gardens outside and the incredible Arabic archways inside. The perfectly clear 70-degree weather also helped add to its already seemingly fake appearance.
At 2:30, Jesus dragged us out to load the bus and head to Córdoba. The only site we visited here was la Mezquita de Córdoba (Mosque of Cordoba). Once again, we oo-ed and awed over the red-striped archways and the beautiful Arabic architecture. After briefing exploring the quaint town, we broke for ice cream and re-boarded the bus at 6:30.
Arriving in Sevilla, I almost had the wind knocked out of me as we entered the hotel. Suspended lighting, atrium-style levels…there was even a mini forest and large fountain! Hombre, we’re spoiled.
Mary (my Sevilla roommate) and I took quick showers and changed to be ready for a group dinner downstairs at 9:30. Sitting at a table with Danny, Thomas, and Alex, we enjoyed yet another incredible meal, which began with the closest thing to an American salad I’ve seen since being in Spain. While this still included iceberg lettuce, there was also corn, tomatoes, hard-boiled egg, tuna, and olives, and honey mustard dressing. After bacaloa (white salty fish) with tomato sauce and peppers, warm bread, and chocolate flan with whipped cream, and café con leche, I was full as a tick. I probably would have gone UB too, but I happened to be wearing a dress.
Tired from a long day of travel, most of us decided to enjoy a low-key evening, enjoying the luxury of free wireless Internet and the “champagne” shower setting.
Domingo el 22:
Another beautiful breakfast at 8:30 the next morning, complete with warm chocolate croissants, jamon, cheese, kiwis, yogurt, and CEREAL!! Although this particular selection didn’t quite measure up to Honey Bunches of Oats, excursions are always such a treat being able to eat cereal again. We are in college after all…it’s just not healthy to go this long without any.
At 9:30, we left the hotel to visit los Reales Alcázares. This was another incredible Arabic palace with equally incredible gardens, complete with tiled walkways, railings wrapped in lilacs, fountains, and ducks. This was yet another place we’ve visited in Spain where you could literally close your eyes, spin in random circles snapping your camera and still end up with professional looking pictures.
At 12:30, we left this Eden for la Plaza de España, which looked more like a semi-circle than a plaza to me. Semi-circle de España…really has a ring to it, doesn’t it. Besides the plethora of fans and scarves and souveniers being sold in la Plaza, I was drawn to the major cities in Spain represented on the perimeter. It was cool to see all the places we’d visited, decorated in their own ornately blue-tiled cove, our favorite of course being the ‘Manc itself.
At 2, we broke for free time, where Sasha, Alex, Kelley, Colleen, Emily, Leah, and I discovered an incredible Cuban café. We sat outside under umbrellas for 2 hours (in the name of Spain), sipping mojitos and gorging ourselves with Arroz a la Cubana, chicken and guacamole, and fried eggplant. After lunch, we met up with Thomas, Danny, and Kristina down by the water and decided to hop on an hour-long boat tour together. Although the tour information was pretty lame, it was a fun way to wrap up the afternoon.
The hotel bus picked us up at 6:15. After showering, checking emails, and changing, most of the group headed into the city once again for a tapas crawl. This is when you start at one tapas (like appetizers) bar, order one or two tapas and a glass of wine or a beer, and walk to the next tapas place to repeat the process. This is what the Spaniards do anyway, but being typical Americans, we filled up at the first place and only made it to one other bar for drinks afterwards. Activities like going out for tapas or for drinks or sitting in the plaza have become so much apart of my everyday life that I sometimes have to step back to remember how cool this actually is! I loved walking down those streets of Sevilla at 11pm, seeing people of all ages standing at outdoor tables, talking and laughing over food and drink. You can really feel the life pulsing through the veins of Spain.
Lunes el 23:
Breakfast at 8 the next morning, we reluctantly left Sevilla for Mérida at 9:15.
Arriving around 12:00 p.m, we visited a Roman amphitheater and theater. GUAY! So much of it is still so well preserved and the parts that were not were a result of Visigodos and other people groups coming taking the materials and re-using them for their own structures. I am truly blown away each time I hear about the Romans and their innovative ideas in engineering and architecture, especially when in our day an age it’s so easy to look back and label past civilizations as foolish compared to ourselves.
At 1:30 we were given free time, knowing that we wouldn’t be leaving again until 3:30. If you knew how small of a nothing town Mérida is, you would have been a little panicked too. We just about bought out the Spanish subway and the adjacent ice cream shop, both of which were being worked by one poor frantic man. Our presence had probably temporarily doubled the population of Mérida. After lunch and ice cream, Alex, Will, Danny, and I walked around stopping soon after for a café con leche at another outdoor café. I’ll probably have to slowly wean myself off of this café lifestyle before returning back to the states☹
We hopped back on good old Tres Pilares and returned home in Sal a little before 8pm. Before I conclude this extremely long post, I’d like to explain a little something about our love-hate relationship with our excursion bus, Tres Pilares, which has accumulated a wide variety of nicknames like “Tres P,” “T cubed,” and just plain “TP.” Driven by dear old Lucio (who not even the fluent girl in our group can understand), Tres P constantly smells of feet and BO, lacks ventilation, bathroom and legroom of any kind. And yet, we’ve become strangely attached to this disgusting bus over the course of our excursions.
jueves, 19 de marzo de 2009
Tandem Time at the DF'nQ in San Seb
FINALLY, the highly anticipated, free 3-day weekend arrived. Alex, Tori, Colleen, and I decided to brave the 7-hour bus ride in return for the beautiful beaches of San Sebastian in Pais Vasco (Northeast Spain). Pulling in a little before 10:30 pm Friday night, we were able to hop into a cab right across the street from the bus station. Thus began the HOSTEL DAVID EFFING QUINN adventure. Sweet Alexandra had taken on the job of booking our hostel weeks ago, but until now, none of us had known the name. Does “Hostel David Quinn” sound sketchy to you? Would the four of us be sharing the bottom bunk in David Quinn’s own room? This made entering the spacious, clean, 50 yards from the beach, free breakfast, towels, and WiFi all the more pleasantly surprising. Almost immediately, David and his precious Irish mother, Terri, had offered us to a wine and cheese in the kitchen. By the end of the weekend, we had become very close friends with DQ and Terri, two 32-year-old Aussie surfers, and three kids from LA studying abroad in Bordeau, France. I can’t believe I only paid 55 euros for three nights at this place.
After settling in our respective rooms (Alex and I in our private room and Colleen and Tori in their shared room), we headed over to a nearby supermarket to pick up some snacks and a couple bottles of wine. Later, we went walking along the “boardwalk.”I put this in quotes because it’s not your typical Ocean City wooden walkway, instead it’s a broad cobble stoned street along the beach lined with white iron railings. But that’s is pretty close, right? We ended up at a chic bar around 2:30am, which apparently was still much to early to arrive. I’m still learning. After about 20 minutes of lounging on the posh white leather stools, without one cat call, pick-up line, or even an approaching male of any kind, we knew something was up. Please understand that this is NOT a conceited statement. Rather, it’s Spain. If a girl doesn’t reach her quota of male comments or winks for the day, she really does feel gross. Amazing the things you get used to. As 3:30am grew nearer, more and more men came pouring into the club. Very well-dressed, affectionate men. Where are all the girls? It didn’t take long for us to put two and two together. Clearly, we weren’t wanted here. Why did this club have to be gay, it was right on the beach with a beautiful view! Tori was feeling sick and so had already headed back to the DQ at this point, but Alex, Colleen and I left soon after. On the walk home, we started talking with a local, asking about the nightlife. Please be impressed that we were even able to communicate with him as the dialect of Spanish in Pais Vasco is entirely different from Castellano in Salamanca. The conversation ended when Colleen tried to take a bite of the half-eaten hamburger in his hand.
The next morning, we helped ourselves to scrambled eggs, coffee, and toast…the closest thing to an American breakfast I’ve had in two months (nothing short of a blissful experience). The combination of waking up late, breakfast, and showers got our lazy butts outside around 12. Thankfully, the overcast 50-degree weather didn’t keep us from walking around and enjoying the scenery. We walked around Parte Viejo (the old part), not without shopping and café con leche breaks. Taking advantage of David Quinn’s suggestion, we enjoyed the BEST seafood paella I’ve ever had, about a fifteen minute from the hostel. Apparently DQ is something of a celebrity at this place too. Go figure.
On the verge of throwing up, we rolled out of the restaurant and made stops at the bike rental place, which was closed (this is when Spanish time is obnoxious), and the tourism office to pick of some flyers. I won’t get into this because it will just make me upset, but let’s just say that over the course of the weekend, we accumulated some VERY strong feelings for the man at the front desk. Thanks for being SO helpful buddy.
We returned to the hostel for siesta naps. Spain has made me into an old woman because I’m very cranky if I don’t get this nap on a daily basis. We woke up and made a trip back to the supermarket to pick up the fixings for a pasta dinner. This was an adorable and impressive dinner, both by economic and culinary standards. We even had an appetizer plate with cheese, crackers, and grapes. This began our impromtu party in the kitchen with all our new friends. It was so fun to be able to exchange experiences in France and Spain, and teach the Aussies a few common Spanish phrases to help them get around.
We all left and headed to a different club under the boardwalk (don’t pretend like you didn’t just sing the next line of the song in your head). And what a pleasant surprise that it wasn’t gay! Honestly though, I probably would have stayed regardless on account of the huge dance floor. Practicing my Aussie accent also kept me busy for a good portion of the evening. “Weh gah-in’ fah sahm behs in a bah in BonDay.” (“We’re going for some beers in Bundai.”) I must have said this one phrase at least 300 times in that 3-hour period. It paid off though cause I can pull off a pretty sick Aussie accent now. No bigs. Heading home around 4:30, I fell into bed knowing very well that we wouldn’t be sticking to our original plan of waking up early to go biking.
Once again, out the door around 12 the next morning, we were greeted with a beautiful day! Being that it was Sunday, the bike rental place was closed once again. Yikes, Spanish time. Continuing on with the plan, we made the hike up to a huge statue of Jesus off the beach. As beautiful as the pictures are, seeing the views in person simply doesn’t compare. Even though Colleen made me almost pee my pants a variety of times as a result of laughing attacks or the fact that I was very close to having a heart attack walking up these few hills, it was definitely worth it!
We headed back to the DQ to make the rest of our economic pasta for lunch and siesta for a bit. We enjoyed the early evening with mimosas on the beach, dipping our feet in the VERY cold Cantabrian Sea.
Regrouping at the DQ for showers and such, our entire hostel group headed out for the famous San Sebastian Pintxos (pronounced Pinchos) in El Parte Viejo. Pintxos are like little snacks that you have with a glass of wine of a cana (small beer). You’re given a big plate and you go up to the bar where they are displayed and choose the ones you want. This particular had everything from artichokes to bocadillos to croquetas and Spanish tortilla. This was a fun opportunity for us to share some true Spanish cuisine with the Frenchies and the Aussies. Returning to the DQ, Alex, Colleen, and I finished off the evening with 40-year-old virgin…thankfully, in English (did I mention that the DF’nQ also had an incredible collection of movies?).
Waking up before 10am for the first time all weekend, we ate breakfast (I am now sick of eggs), packed up, and still didn’t make it out the door before 12. Being the determined women that we are, we decided to have one last try at the bikes. SUCCESS! Obviously, Colleen and I got a tandem (2-person bike) and Alex and Tori opted for slightly less guay individuals. For an hour, we biked all along the perimeter of Playa de La Concha and beyond. This was probably my favorite part of the trip: another perfect day (clear blue sky, upper 60s), incredible view, my first (and probably last) time riding a bike in boots, and Colleen and I receiving plenty of “hola’s” from the locals. Do you know how hard it is to ride a tandem? By the end of that hour, we were basically a circus act. Returning the bikes with heavy hearts, we made a quick (yet VITAL) stop at a nearby Doner Kabap for lunch. We grabbed our things at the DFQ, where DQ himself called us a cab. The ride back was long and uneventful, leaving plenty of time to work on my 5 page Spanish paper for Intro. to Lit. Back to reality.
We only spent two days in Salamanca and now we’re traveling once again (this time, with the entire group). Woo I’m tired. We’ll be in Andalucia (southern region of Spain) until Monday evening, visiting Granada, Cordoba, and Sevilla. I’ve heard Andalucia is absolutely beautiful during the spring and the weather’s supposed to be in the 70s!! De puta madre.
After settling in our respective rooms (Alex and I in our private room and Colleen and Tori in their shared room), we headed over to a nearby supermarket to pick up some snacks and a couple bottles of wine. Later, we went walking along the “boardwalk.”I put this in quotes because it’s not your typical Ocean City wooden walkway, instead it’s a broad cobble stoned street along the beach lined with white iron railings. But that’s is pretty close, right? We ended up at a chic bar around 2:30am, which apparently was still much to early to arrive. I’m still learning. After about 20 minutes of lounging on the posh white leather stools, without one cat call, pick-up line, or even an approaching male of any kind, we knew something was up. Please understand that this is NOT a conceited statement. Rather, it’s Spain. If a girl doesn’t reach her quota of male comments or winks for the day, she really does feel gross. Amazing the things you get used to. As 3:30am grew nearer, more and more men came pouring into the club. Very well-dressed, affectionate men. Where are all the girls? It didn’t take long for us to put two and two together. Clearly, we weren’t wanted here. Why did this club have to be gay, it was right on the beach with a beautiful view! Tori was feeling sick and so had already headed back to the DQ at this point, but Alex, Colleen and I left soon after. On the walk home, we started talking with a local, asking about the nightlife. Please be impressed that we were even able to communicate with him as the dialect of Spanish in Pais Vasco is entirely different from Castellano in Salamanca. The conversation ended when Colleen tried to take a bite of the half-eaten hamburger in his hand.
The next morning, we helped ourselves to scrambled eggs, coffee, and toast…the closest thing to an American breakfast I’ve had in two months (nothing short of a blissful experience). The combination of waking up late, breakfast, and showers got our lazy butts outside around 12. Thankfully, the overcast 50-degree weather didn’t keep us from walking around and enjoying the scenery. We walked around Parte Viejo (the old part), not without shopping and café con leche breaks. Taking advantage of David Quinn’s suggestion, we enjoyed the BEST seafood paella I’ve ever had, about a fifteen minute from the hostel. Apparently DQ is something of a celebrity at this place too. Go figure.
On the verge of throwing up, we rolled out of the restaurant and made stops at the bike rental place, which was closed (this is when Spanish time is obnoxious), and the tourism office to pick of some flyers. I won’t get into this because it will just make me upset, but let’s just say that over the course of the weekend, we accumulated some VERY strong feelings for the man at the front desk. Thanks for being SO helpful buddy.
We returned to the hostel for siesta naps. Spain has made me into an old woman because I’m very cranky if I don’t get this nap on a daily basis. We woke up and made a trip back to the supermarket to pick up the fixings for a pasta dinner. This was an adorable and impressive dinner, both by economic and culinary standards. We even had an appetizer plate with cheese, crackers, and grapes. This began our impromtu party in the kitchen with all our new friends. It was so fun to be able to exchange experiences in France and Spain, and teach the Aussies a few common Spanish phrases to help them get around.
We all left and headed to a different club under the boardwalk (don’t pretend like you didn’t just sing the next line of the song in your head). And what a pleasant surprise that it wasn’t gay! Honestly though, I probably would have stayed regardless on account of the huge dance floor. Practicing my Aussie accent also kept me busy for a good portion of the evening. “Weh gah-in’ fah sahm behs in a bah in BonDay.” (“We’re going for some beers in Bundai.”) I must have said this one phrase at least 300 times in that 3-hour period. It paid off though cause I can pull off a pretty sick Aussie accent now. No bigs. Heading home around 4:30, I fell into bed knowing very well that we wouldn’t be sticking to our original plan of waking up early to go biking.
Once again, out the door around 12 the next morning, we were greeted with a beautiful day! Being that it was Sunday, the bike rental place was closed once again. Yikes, Spanish time. Continuing on with the plan, we made the hike up to a huge statue of Jesus off the beach. As beautiful as the pictures are, seeing the views in person simply doesn’t compare. Even though Colleen made me almost pee my pants a variety of times as a result of laughing attacks or the fact that I was very close to having a heart attack walking up these few hills, it was definitely worth it!
We headed back to the DQ to make the rest of our economic pasta for lunch and siesta for a bit. We enjoyed the early evening with mimosas on the beach, dipping our feet in the VERY cold Cantabrian Sea.
Regrouping at the DQ for showers and such, our entire hostel group headed out for the famous San Sebastian Pintxos (pronounced Pinchos) in El Parte Viejo. Pintxos are like little snacks that you have with a glass of wine of a cana (small beer). You’re given a big plate and you go up to the bar where they are displayed and choose the ones you want. This particular had everything from artichokes to bocadillos to croquetas and Spanish tortilla. This was a fun opportunity for us to share some true Spanish cuisine with the Frenchies and the Aussies. Returning to the DQ, Alex, Colleen, and I finished off the evening with 40-year-old virgin…thankfully, in English (did I mention that the DF’nQ also had an incredible collection of movies?).
Waking up before 10am for the first time all weekend, we ate breakfast (I am now sick of eggs), packed up, and still didn’t make it out the door before 12. Being the determined women that we are, we decided to have one last try at the bikes. SUCCESS! Obviously, Colleen and I got a tandem (2-person bike) and Alex and Tori opted for slightly less guay individuals. For an hour, we biked all along the perimeter of Playa de La Concha and beyond. This was probably my favorite part of the trip: another perfect day (clear blue sky, upper 60s), incredible view, my first (and probably last) time riding a bike in boots, and Colleen and I receiving plenty of “hola’s” from the locals. Do you know how hard it is to ride a tandem? By the end of that hour, we were basically a circus act. Returning the bikes with heavy hearts, we made a quick (yet VITAL) stop at a nearby Doner Kabap for lunch. We grabbed our things at the DFQ, where DQ himself called us a cab. The ride back was long and uneventful, leaving plenty of time to work on my 5 page Spanish paper for Intro. to Lit. Back to reality.
We only spent two days in Salamanca and now we’re traveling once again (this time, with the entire group). Woo I’m tired. We’ll be in Andalucia (southern region of Spain) until Monday evening, visiting Granada, Cordoba, and Sevilla. I’ve heard Andalucia is absolutely beautiful during the spring and the weather’s supposed to be in the 70s!! De puta madre.
miércoles, 11 de marzo de 2009
Girl Talk with Madre
Last night, after a dinner of salad and leftover lomo from siesta (AMAZING fried fillet of layered pork and cheese), Allison and I enjoyed a major bonding session with madre. Having had to bring in a recipe of a Spanish dish for Civ. the previous week, dear Asencion decided that a written explanation of Croquetas simply wouldn't suffice. No, we were to actually help her make them. This came as something of a surprise since we're never allowed to do our dishes nor help her at all in the kitchen. She handed me the hard-boiled eggs to peel and Allison a bowl and fork to start mashing. To make these little fried wonders, you start by heating up flour and oil in a pot (smells even more disgusting than it sounds). Next, you add milk, cheese (like laughing cow cheese), salt, and of course it wouldn't be a true Spanish meal dish without the bits of ham. Stir (in the same direction, mind you...SO important to madre) until all the ingredients are melted and mixed well. Pour the contents from the pot into the bowl of mashed hard-boiled eggs. Mix and leave out or refrigerate until firm. We are reconvening to finish the process this afternoon.
Our cooking activity spurred a conversation about a certain madre in the program, who doesn't let the girls enter the kitchen at all. If they want a glass of water, they have to ask her to pour it for them. Perhaps I shouldn't have mentioned anything at all, because our madre immediately responded with, "DIME QUIEN ES!" ("Tell me who it is!") Have I mentioned Spanish women love their gossip? She got a little frustrated when I wouldn't tell her and so she just started guessing. "Bueno, yo se que es Raquel." ("OK, I know it's Raquel.") I had to laugh because she was right. And the rapid fire Spanish began, telling us exactly how she felt about Raquel and her philosophy on housing students. No, no, madre, tell me how you REALLY feel. I know gossiping is wrong, but I was practicing my Spanish! It was my first sassy, heated conversation with a Spanish woman and I hope it isn't my last.
Yesterday after Intro. to Lit., Colleen and I got ice cream in La Plaza (highly recommend Irish coffee). This has been THE thing to do since it's been warm out. People lay out on the ground in the middle of La Plaza talking with friends and basking in the sun. Next, I went to meet Alex in Cafe del Arte to study for our Spanish Civ. exam tomorrow. When we started to compare our notes, it was funny to see parts of the lecture where I had clearly zoned out and other parts where she had as well. There were also plenty of Spanish words and names for which neither of us had the slightest clue to their significance. Relaying my notes to her, I started talking about Copernicus and his revolutionary ideas about the world actually being round and how the Catholic Church banned all "round books" and such. I must have said "round" a few too many times because it initiated a classic Alex laughing attack. Little did I know that the entire time she had been staring at a certain man at the bar behind me. Elbows on the counter, leaning on one leg, his rather maternal-looking bottom was VERY pronounced in a very typical pair of super tight Spanish jeans. And being the slick stalker that I am, I pretended like I was stretching my back so as to get a look as well. We really have to stop gossiping about people right next to us...but I'm pretty sure LAUGHING at someone is universally understood. Study session concluded. Good progress.
Still can't figure out why the bartender is so nice to us now. He even came up to our table to ask what we were studying. I'd say we're definitely working our way to the top of the regulars list.
martes, 10 de marzo de 2009
New pants for Luis
That's right, yesterday Luis finally changed out of his green pair of slacks and into a pair of navy blue. This is big. How big? Quite possibly earth-shattering. Cranky old Luis has literally worn the exact same pair of army green pants every single day since we arrived to Spain. The same lingering stains around the right front pocket are proof enough that they are never washed either. If I hadn't already seen him in his cucumber green cotton pajama set, I'd say he probably sleeps in these pants too. The pants change was so big in fact that as soon as he walked into the sun room for siesta yesterday, Allison turned to me (already having noticed the occurrence) and all she had to say was "pants."
I'm really going to miss being able to talk about people two feet away from me without them having a clue. My friends and I do this all the time on the street too. "Oh man, check out that mullet!" or "I really wish this guy would walk faster or move to the left." Let's hope I just don't forget and make this mistake when I return to the US.
Madre, however, completely disregards this rule, openly speaking about surrounding people (well, mainly just about Luis), who of course CAN understand her. Nearly everyday at lunch, madre feels compelled to tell us about things she likes, but her husband doesn't. "A mi me gusta mucho esta pasta y este tipo de pescado pero a mi marido no." or "A mi me gusta bailar y ir al cine, pero a mi marido no." ("I really like this pasta and this kind of fish, but my husband doesn't." or "I love to go dancing and to the movies, but my husband doesn't." I never know what to say...perhaps in her old age she has forgotten that the man she speaks of is sitting right next to her? I think she may be trying to send him subliminal messages, which I really can't blame the woman for. I'd probably be openly gossiping about him too if I had to make him a completely separate meal attuned to his particular taste buds and mood each day.
In other news, I've decided to make a running list of things I'll miss about Spain since I've already created one for those I miss about home.
Here are a few I've thought of so far:
-Smelling like an ashtray every time I leave a cafe, restaurant, bar, or any public, confined place
-Spanish time (hope I don't get any professors at JMU next semester that lock the door when class begins)
-A madre who makes my bed, cooks every meal for me, does my dishes, laundry, etc. (you have some big shoes to fill this summer, USA mom)
-A real night life (JMU apartment parties seem pretty depressing now) and the fact that alcohol is cheaper than water here...this will probably never make sense to me
-Being able to gossip about an unsuspecting person inches away
-My walk to class
-Siesta
-The FOOD, cafe con leche, Pans, etc.
-The double kiss greeting
-The cat calls (haha jk)
-The fashion
-Sharing randy (nutella) and an apple every night with Allison
Ahh there are so many more, but this is a good start.
This morning in Independent Study we were discussing the theme of prohibited love in the novel we're reading (Como Agua Para Chocolate). Alex was explaining her point, using a character named Jose as an example. But she didn't say Jose; she said Javier. This immediately set me off into one of my laughing attacks because while there is NO such character in the book, Javier is also the name of our beautiful Intensivo teacher. He had Alex's heart and mine at "Hola." Naturally, our professor knows Javier and this set him off into a laughing fit of his own until he finished our session with, "Pues, alguno comentario mas sobre el amor prohibido...o sobre Javier?" ("So, any more comments about prohibited love...or about Javier?")
Maybe you had to be there.
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