The Clock is Ticking

Well, I don't have much time left here in Spain. I have just 10 days. How do I feel about this? Conflicted. I've really enjoyed my time in Spain and am not ready to complete my studies. At the same time, I am THRILLED to be going home, back to MY bed, food that I cook, MY bike, and the family. I'm hoping that I can continue my studies formally upon my return.

What have I been up to the past few weeks? The last three weekends, I've gone with friends to the beach. Twice to Alumunecar and once to La Herradura. My friend got so sunburned this weekend that she developed an infection in her skin and we had to go to the ER. It only took 45 minutes there, however, and less than 2 minutes in the pharmacy and we were all set. Socialized medicine did not live up to it's reputation of long lines and crappy service. Also, about a week and a half ago, I celebrated my 35th birthday with mojitos, Mexican food, margaritas, and more mojitos. We also met a guy that night who was an architect, boxer, and bullfighter. Who knows how much of that was true.

During my time in Spain, I've met many people from a vast variety of countries. I've kept track of those countries and, in the last 16 weeks, have met people from:

Sweden
Korea
Denmark
Germany
France
Spain
Israel
Morocco
Taiwan
England
Cyprus
Austria
Columbia
Australia
Gibraltar
Italy
Brazil
Senegal
Kenya
Ireland
Poland
Georgia
Japan

I'm pretty impressed with that list!

It's only ten days until I can lay my head on my own pillow. Thank goodness!

What's in a Name and a Tricky Situation

What's in a name? Well here, in Spain, it's your grandfathers but never your husband.

Here's how it works. Everyone has two last names. When they are born, children get the first last name from each parent. So if Jose Martinez Garcia and Maria Lorca Jiminez had a child named Ana, her full name would be Ana Martinez Lorca. Martinez and Lorca are the last names of her two grandfathers while the last names of her two grandmothers do not get passed down.

Also interesting to me is that the women do not change their names when they get married. I prefer this. It's always been weird to me that women change their name when they get married. It was once a source of an argument I had. The opposing party said, "Well if she loved him, she would take his last name." To this, I logically responded, "If he loved her, he would take her last name. What kind of logic is that? Now they've both switched last names!" Of course, I think women should have a choice but I personally prefer the keeping of the original last name as that is who the woman is.

Interestingly, according to some of our teachers, in many Central and South American countries, women don't change their names but do add the names of their husband at the end proceeded by "de". For example, if Ana Martinez Lorca married Pablo Ruiz Picasso, she could choose to have the name Ana Martinez Lorca de Ruiz. I don't really care for this either as the word "de" implies possession or ownership. The coche de Ruiz is the car belonging to Ruiz and I don't like the idea of Ana belonging to Ruiz. But again, to each his own.

I'm having one of these moments right now:



I did something pretty bad today, just like Chunk in the clip. As many know, eating in Spain has been extremely difficult for me. There are many foods that I REALLY don't like and I have had to eat most of them here. As I live with a family, I don't get to choose my meals, they simply show up on a plate in front of me. So, today I snapped a little. Mostly this was a portion issue and not the actual food itself. I had a huge bowl of zucchini soup and this was followed by a ginormous salad. I just couldn't eat anymore of the salad. When I eat salads, it's not that I get full, I just get tired of chewing. And I just couldn't do it anymore. Then, when the phone rang and when Abuela went to answer it, I seized my opportunity and dumped the remainder of my salad on her plate.

Wow. That was pretty terrible. In my defense, however, Abuela is always talking about how she LOVES verduras (vegetables) and she is like maybe 100 pounds so an extra portion would do her some good. I, on the other hand, now feel awful. Oh well.

Observations Part 3

So, when I first came to Spain, I thought it was unusual that the supermercados (supermarkets) were really pretty small. I would say that none of the supermercados have been bigger than Stowers & Son Market (a great place to buy meat, by the way). I did some investigating and this is what I've discovered. The mercados (markets) tend to be what we would call a Farmer's Market.

• The supermercados are simply grocery stores.
• Bigger grocery stores than supermercados are called hipermercados. These are similar to our supermarkets.

I am hopeful that we never start referring to our stores as hypermarkets. That sounds to goofy.

Cordoba

This past weekend, I attended my final excursion with my school. Why final, you ask? Because I've been on all the excursions they offer. With five weekends left during my big adventure, I will have to continue my travels solo or with friends.

Cordoba was a very interesting and old city. How old? Well, for example, the mosque was built on top of an old cathedral beginning in the 700s. So it's so old that they were already building on top of other buildings 1400 years ago. That's pretty old.



The Cathedral/Mosque/Cathedral are very interesting. The Moors (Muslim and Arab) dominated southern Spain from the 8th Century until the 15th Century, mas o menos. Thus, when the Moors came to Cordoba in the 8th Century, the decided the best place to build a really really big Mosque was right on top of existing Cathedral. Around 700 years later, they would meet karma and parts of the Mosque would be converted back into a Cathedral.

For me, going into the Cathedral/Mosque/Cathedral was pretty weird. I'd learned about both Muslim and Catholic architecture and art during the art appreciation class I took last fall. Muslims do not decorate their buildings with depictions of humans, animals, events, etc which, of course, Catholics do. Thus, it was super weird to see the intricate geometric designs of the Muslims next to a painting of Christ's crucifixion.



















While in Cordoba, we also visited a very old synagogue which, despite being of the Jewish faith of course, also had Muslim decor. The buildings were really a "mixto" of cultures.

Most of the streets we were on in Cordoba were very small (like as wide as my umbrella) and windows were covered with flowers. This is done for both the cooling effects and to provide a pleasant scent.

Unlike previous trips, this trip went very smoothly and there were no problems. Thank goodness!

As a side note, my dinner when I got home was an entire large plate of cooked spinach with a fried egg mixed in. I thought there was no way any human could eat an entire plate of cooked spinach but I did it. Where's my blue ribbon?

Semana Santa

Semana Santa is big here. I mean really big. There are places in the world where Holy Week is a big deal but no where is it bigger than in Andalusia (my region of Spain). All the schools and the university are closed for the week as are some businesses. At a minimum, people don't work from Thursday on, if not more. Each day, there are multiple relgious processions and, on Wednesday, there was a 10 hour procession that began at 9 p.m. and finished around 7 a.m.. This included carrying the "float" of Jesucristo (for lack of a better word) up a mountain and having it serenaded by the gypsies. It is my understanding that the "floats" are carried by 5 rows of 15 people, mas o menos. They always have a statue of Jesucristo or La Virgin Maria on top so it's pretty dang heavy. Below are some videos of a procession (about a month before Semana Santa) and Stations of the Cross (during Semana Santa). The smoke you see on the Stations of the Cross video is, of course, incense. The city has smelled like it all week which I enjoy. The videos are all 15 seconds or less.

Gibraltar

Two weeks ago, the day after we went to Morocco, my friend Ida and I had a much better experience traveling to Gibraltar.


View Larger Map

That morning, after spending the night in the port town of Algeciras, Spain, Ida and I grabbed the city bus over to La Linea, Spain, the border town next to Gibraltar. It took about a half hour to get there but the cost was only about $2 (as compared to a taxi which was around $40). Upon arriving in La Linea, we were dumped at the bus station and crossed the boarder into Gibraltar on foot. We were hoping to get our passports stamped but no dice. The border patrol barely looked up and just waved us through.

In Gibraltar, there is a cable car that takes you to the top of the rock. When we arrived at the entrance to the cable car, a nice young man from a competing business told us that for just 3 euros more, his company would take us on a tour of the rock in a van complete with information from the guide, stops at all the sites on the rock, and free entrance to the caves and to the military defense tunnels (normally 10 euros each). We would also get to feed the Barnaby apes that live on the rock. Sign us up! Off we went with a group from England (there are many Brits in Gibraltar as it is a sort of commonwealth of the UK although it has its own government and constitution).



On our way up the rock, we stopped several time for scenic views. We also stopped at the famous caves of Gibraltar. These caves include a performance venue inside. It was outside these caves that we first met the Barnaby apes. They are extremely friendly although will steal food if you are holding it in your hands. Our guide was extremely familiar with the apes and had them sitting on our shoulders and eating out of our hands.

















It was also at the caves that we also first came across a strange travel group. This group consisted of approximately 15 American males ranging in age from approximately 20 to 40, mas o menos. And, in the great spirit of representing the States, the spoke with terrible grammar, some were missing teeth, some wearing bib overalls, many heavily tattooed, and they were all drinking beer in and out of their van at around 11 a.m.. As a cyclist was headed down the rock, the one dude said to him, "Way to go, Louie Armstrong!" Douchebag, it's Lance Armstrong. Later, when a soccer field was in view, the same guy yells, "Hey, I think David Beckman is down there." Beckman, he said Beckman, not Beckham, but BeckMAN. I was mortified that such a group was representing all of us abroad. I spoke to one of the least obnoxious members of this group and asked where they were from. He said they were all from Louisiana. As we continued to see them, stop after stop, I wondered what would make 15 friends from Louisiana decide they wanted to hop on a plane and fly 10 hours to a small British country on the edge of Spain. Finally, at the last stop and after the comment about David "Beckman", I apologized to our tour guide and explained that most Americans were not like them. He laughed and said that these guys were actually from an oil rig in the middle of the Strait of Gibraltar. They had started drilling in Egypt and had eventually made their way to the Strait. He said he understood not all Americans were similar to these guys. I had several reactions to this news. First, it made sense. They were from Louisiana, they were young, and they were all dudes. Of course they were oil rig workers. Then, I again became mortified. These guys had been traveling all through North Africa and now Europe acting like this and representing the States. I am sure that somewhere on Facebook, there are pictures of them in their bibs with beer in front of the pyramids grinning their toothless smiles. However, f they are able to travel to such interesting places, perhaps I should consider a future on an oil rig.

The entire day in Gibraltar was great. After our tour, we had a lunch of fish and chips, walked through the old downtown, and just generally enjoyed being around people who were speaking English and not trying to swindle us. We had some extra time to kill before our train back to Granada so we crossed the border a little early and went to the western most beach of Costa del Sol.

One of the interesting aspects of Gibraltar is the airport, or to be more specific, the runway. Gibraltar is a small country. According to Wikipedia, it's 2.6 square miles or about 1600 acres. That's not very big. At the location of the airport, Gibraltar is 1.1 miles wide. As such, the runway must run the whole width of the country/peninsula. No problem. Oh wait, what about the main street into town? Ah, the runway bisects it. Thus, when a plane is taking off, traffic on the road is stopped and the train proceeds down the runway including crossing the main drag. Luckily for us, we were able to see a plane take off. It was pretty cool.
























All in all, we really enjoyed Gibraltar and felt very comfortable there. It's not a big place and was very clean. We highly recommend it. Ironically, just a few days before our visit, Prince Charles and Camila were there. They also visited Spain and were told by Prince Felipe that he'd like Gibraltar back. It's been British for 300 years. Spain's not getting it back. Nice try though, Felipe.

Soup du Jour

Today's lunch was soup which included the following ingredients:

• canned tomato soup
• meatballs (processed/store bought/kinda gross)
• a green legume of sorts
  
• french fries.

Yes, all that in one bowl. Señora bought a deep fryer two weeks ago and it's been non-stop fries ever since. They serve fries with everything here. I'm sure they eat more potatoes if not more fries than Americanos.

Morocco . . . or Why I Decided to Not Go To Portugal

For the last week, I've been meaning to blog about last weekend's trip to Morocco and Gibraltar. Unfortunately, I had a test this week and instead spent all of my time studying for that (grade still unknown).

My Swedish friend Ida and I decided a while back that we must go to Morocco as it was so close to where we are. To be only a few hours from Africa and an Arab country and not go would be a shame. As time is also winding down on how long I am in Spain legally and can thus come and go freely, this trip had to be taken soon. Thus, we went last weekend.

In Spain, the concept of time is totally different than in the States. For example, our train left at 6:50 a.m.. Although this would be considered somewhat early for a Saturday morning in the States, this is still, to a degree, considered Friday night in Spain. By that I mean, the streets are still filled with party go-ers and those walking home from the bars (which close at 7 a.m.). I tend to think of Spanish time as 2-3 hours later than American time. So, a 6:50 a.m. departure would be similar to a 4:50 a.m. departure in the States. In other words, no one could believe we were getting up that early and there was virtually no one on the train.

In regards to the train, it was very nice and somewhat space shuttle like. Sliding glass doors on motion detectors, lots of white plastic furnishings, very clean. I like it a lot better than traveling via bus although the buses are also clean. They, however, don't have bathrooms or vending machines. After 4 hours on the train, we arrived in Algeciras, Spain.


View Larger Map

Algeciras was the port city in which we'd planned to catch a ferry over to Tanger, Morocco, Africa. We'd researched all the ferrys and determined which one was least expensive. Upon our arrival, we had exactly one hour until the ferry departure time and did not know exactly where to buy tickets. Thus, we had to hurry.

After a little walking, we eventually found an independent ticket salesman who sold for the desired ferry. The online price we'd found was 33 euros but, according to this gentleman, the price was actually 59 euros. "Ok, fine," we thought. Give us the damn tickets. We have a ferry to catch. Thus we bought our tickets and left to make our way to the ferry. Unfortunately, there were no signs as to how to get to the ferry and it was a bit of a walk. We had to ask directions which was challenging with the language barrier. Eventually, however, we made it to the ferry and through customs effectively.

I had hoped that, while on the ferry, we'd be able to sit outside for at least a portion of the one and a half hour ride (and by one and a half hours, they meant more like 2 hours 15 minutes). Unfortunately, this ferry did not have outdoor seating (our evening ferry did but it was much too cold). It did, however, have comfortable seating in either couch or table with chair form and a small cafeteria.

While on the ferry, the information desk made an announcement that we should be sure to get customs forms and fill them out. Like good travelers, we did. Unfortunately, there was more to this process, we would soon learn. When exiting the ferry, an official checked our passport. It had been checked at Algeciras and we'd had no problems. In Morocco though, there was a problem. According to the guy at the dock, the police on the ferry were supposed to take our customs papers and stamp our passport. What? What police on the ferry? Since when do you get your passport stamped while in the mode of transportation? No matter, we had to return to the ferry. We were told to go to the information desk and wait for the police. The man at the desk said it would be 10 minutes. A few minutes later, a man walked by, and after a brief exchange in both Spanish and English, we discovered that he was the police and was just getting ready to leave the ship. No one had told him that we were there waiting. Had he left without noticing the two confused blondes, we would have been stuck on the ship the entire day.

Because he was getting ready to leave the ship, the policeman did not have his passport stamps. He said we would have to go down to his room on a lower deck of the ship. Yes, this sounded shady. We're in Africa and the guy who says he's the policeman says we must go to his room to get our "passports stamped." When we got there, he opened the door and let us in. He told us to sit down on one of the two beds. He then started to lock the door. Our jaws dropped. Then he said, "I just joking! Ah ha ha!" Yeah, not funny, dude. He really was a nice guy (approximately my age) and got us set up lickety split.

Our port in Morocco is the new port of the city of Tanger. Unfortunately, this means that it is a 30-40 minute bus ride from the port to the city. If you're keeping track, that's a 20 minute walk to the train, plus a 4 hour train ride, plus an hour to buy ferry tickets and walk to the port, plus a 2+ hour ferry ride, plus a 40 minute bus ride. Yes, I used almost all possible modes of transportation in only the first half of the day.

Arriving in the city of Tanger was crazy. It was like something seen in a movie. As we tried to exit the bus, we were smothered by locals wanting to be our tour guides. These people did not abide by American etiquette regarding personal space. No. It was 20 men smashed against themselves and us vying for the right to be our tour guide. Somehow, as we got off the bus, we did so with a family from England and were shoved the same direction they were, toward a tour guide who was speaking English. He was licensed by the government, had the associated paperwork, and was wiling to show our "family" the city for 20 euros. As it was mass chaos, our new British/Swedish/American family agreed.

It actually turned out to be a very good deal. Our guide, Achmed (last name unknown) showed us all around the city and kept the aggressive vendors at bay. He took us up to the Kasbah (castle) and to the Medina (market). We stopped at a spice shop and another store that sold traditional Moroccan crafts. We were there for about 2 hours and that was the perfect amount of time as it was a very intense place.














































One thing I did notice in Tanger was that all the local women (every single one I saw) were wearing traditional Muslim garments including a veil (hijab or hiyab in Spanish) and had their bodies totally covered despite the heat. Both men and women frequently wore the traditional Moroccan slippers with pointy toes similar to what one would picture on a genie. One unexpected thing was the countryside of Morocco. It looked like Ireland. It was very green with low rolling mountains.






After our tour, Achmed took us back to the bus so we could return to the port and thus to Spain. Apparently, there was some confusion about the time and when we attempted to leave the customs building to board the ferry, we were told our ferry did not depart in 20 minutes but rather one hour and 20 minutes. To this I responded, without thinking first, "Oh shit!" The guards at customs really enjoyed this and repeated it many times over the next hour and 20 minutes. (I would like to take this opportunity to thank my mom for giving me this mouth and thus providing the men of Morocco with laughs for several hours).

The ferry ride back to Spain was not calm. Oh no. When one looked out the windows, one would see the lights of the nearby city, then the ferry would pitch so much that the windows would sink so low that one would see all black. At this point, however, I think I was too tired to get sea sick.

It was also at this time that we noticed something on the ferry ticket receipt. Although our tickets had been 59 euros each and should thus total 118 euros, my credit card was actually charged 146 euros. Many bad words came out of our mouths after that discovery. Jerk!

We were very tired when we arrived at the port 2 hours later or at approximately 11 p.m.. We did not know where our hotel was located and thus, upon exiting the port authority and seeing a taxi, decided we'd just let him take us there rather than walk around looking for it. When he told him the name and address of our hotel, he said, "No problem, it's close to here." (Actually he said, "No pasa nada. Es cerca.") We got in the taxi and drove to the end of the driveway of the port. The cab driver then proceeded to tell us, "Look there, it's just across the road. You can get out here" Yes, the bastard drove us to the end of the driveway and charged us 5.50 euros for it. Thanks, buddy. You could have just told us to walk 100 yards due north and we'd run into our hotel.

At this point, we checked in to our hotel and were exhausted. We'd been trying, for the last several weeks, to plan a trip to Lisbon for Easter. It'd been presenting us with several problems regarding transportation. After the challenging day we had getting to, from, and around Morocco, we decided to abort the mission to Lisbon. Morocco had costed more than expected and we were tired of the challenges. We were glad we went but we weren't ready to do a big trip again in two weeks, especially one that was going to require multiple trains and buses to get there.

In all, I'm very glad I went to Morocco. In some ways, it was what I expected. In other ways, it was completely different. And for Pete's sake, I've been to Africa!

Coming up next . . . Gibraltar . . . a little bit of England on the Spanish coast.

Lucnh Today

Hamburger Patty (Tasted very different than American hamburger, a little like sausage?), plain, no bun
Pasta with sauted garlic and mushrooms (very good, but thrown off by the burger)
Bread
Orange

Unusual Lunches Continue

Today's lunch was a soup with ham broth, ham, chicken, rice noodles and onions. This was followed by a salad of lettuce, tomatoes, canned green beans, canned navy beans, dark meat chicken, hard boiled eggs, onions, and a olive oil/mustard dressing. I ate as much of the salad as I could but green beans are on the top of my do not eat list, right next to celery and carrots. I followed each bite with a piece of bread dipped in the dressing to get the taste out of my mouth. Canned green beans + mustard and olive oil dressing = flavor of tuna. I also cleansed my mouth with a Cadbury Mini-Egg. Thanks, Mom!

Traveling Like Crazy

It's been a pretty crazy few weeks and there is much more travel planned for the near future. The week before last, I was in Italy with students and colleagues from the school in which I previously taught. We had a great time and visited 8 locations in 8 days. These locations included Venice, Florence, Pisa, Sorrento, Mt. Vesuvius, Capri, Pompeii, and Rome. My favorites were Sorrento and Mt. Vesuvius although I also greatly enjoyed an evening Rome with a friend of a friend who is Roman. The food in Italy was amazing, our tour guide was the best of the best, and a great time was had by all.



After a week of classes, it was time to explore again and my Swedish friend Ida and I headed to Nerja, Spain. Nerja is a small coastal town that was recommended to me by a friend and it turned out to be even better than expected. It was very quiet, no large crowds, and had several sunny beaches. The water was a very pretty blue-green color, very similar to my trusty ol' '94 Ford Tempo. In Spanish, we say that Nerja was muy tranquila.

There are many more adventures ahead. This coming weekend, Ida and I are headed to Tangiers, Morocco and Gibraltar (roughly 4 hours away via train). The following weekend, we go with our school to Costa Tropical (around an hour away). Then, the next weekend, Ida and I head to Lisbon, Portugual via over night train with beds. Finally, the last weekend of April, we go with our school to Cordoba, Spain which is about 2 hours away. We have made no plans yet for May and, due to some issues with my visa, I should not leave Spain after May until I return to the States on June 11.

As always, the strange food of Spain continues to baffle me. The unusual lunch today included:
small shrimp with heads attached
two fried eggs
french fries
bread
strawberries

I'm going to return to the States with clogged arteries.

Viva Italia!

This week is very busy and will be very fun. Tomorrow is St. Paddy's Day and my friends and I are headed to the Irish bar for some revelry. They also have free tapas there with each drink so it will be great.

Then, Friday morning, I head to Venice to meet up with some friends. From there we go to Florence, Mount Vesuvius/Pompei, and Rome. In Rome, I'll also get to hang out with a friend of a friend who lives there and get to see Rome from his perspective. Very fun! And I can't wait to eat some food that is not Spanish. Bring on the pizza, paninis, pasta, and gelato!

It will also be nice to take a break from class. Our teacher this week and last isn't very effective when it comes to grammar instruction. She's killing our spirits. So, it will be nice to have a break from that.

Best of luck to those who are attempting to negotiate a bargaining agreement today with my former employer!

Sevilla

March 13, 2011 1:02 PM local time

Yesterday, my friends from class, Ida and Adam, and I went to Sevilla on an excursion arranged by a company who does such things for our school and other language schools. In addition to adults from local language schools, there were 18 eighth graders from North Carolina who are in Granada on Spring Break. The students go to a language magnet K-8 school. In K-3, they are taught solely in the new language (Spanish, French, German, Chinese, or Japanese). After third grade, they begin having other a few other lessons in English. So the kids on the trip had been studying Spanish since Kindergarten and seemed to know a lot. They, however, still behaved like eighth graders and I think all the adults on the bus were ready to make them walk the 240 kilometers home from Sevilla.

Sevilla was very pretty and we were all wondering if perhaps that’s where we should have studied. It was very large, however, and I’m sure we were seeing the most picturesque parts. We visited the riverfront, Royal Palace, Cathedral, and Plaza of Spain. The Plaza of Spain was definitely the biggest plaza I’ve ever seen and it had a moat in which one could take a boat ride. The palace was extremely large with mostly Islamic decoration (because the Catholic king admired that style) and huge gardens.

When the trip was concluding, Ida and I decided to use the restroom. The only restrooms in our vicinity were similar to porta-potties but were actually small electrical toilet cabins. You had to pay 20 cents for the door to open (it slid open on its own and appeared to be hydraulic or something) and then you could go in and use the facilities. Something was not functioning right with the “Water Closet” as they call it, however, and the door was open but would not take our coins. So, I went first and I pulled the door shut (difficult but not impossible) and did my business. Ida went next. Again, she was able to slide the door shut with some effort. Shortly into doing her business, however, the door began to slowly open and I was unable to pull it shut. It was me versus the electronic door and I lost. Of course, this was not a normal sized door, it was the handicap WC, so the door was 4-5 feet in length. There was poor Ida doing her business with the 5 foot door open and all in the park staring in. I tried to cover the door with my coat but you can imagine how well this worked. Within ten minutes, we were laughing about it so hard that we were crying.

The ironic thing is, Ida and I had just remarked that things had gone pretty smoothly for us today. In the past, we’ve had some problems with cultural barriers such as:

• Having to pay $20 for FREE tapas
• Going to the Mexican restaurant and having to wait 25 minutes after the scheduled opening time for it to open
• Going to the Mexican restaurant 40 minutes after the posted opening time and being told they would open in 5 minutes
• Going to the Mexican restaurant for 1 euro margaritas and being told that 1 euro margaritas were only for supper and not lunch after having waited for them to open
• Going to the Mexican restaurant at supper and being told the 1 euro margaritas were only for original flavor

There have been others but I cannot recall them at this time. Needless to say, Ida and I should never comment that things are going pretty smoothly or one of us will end up having their ass exposed to a park full of people.

This coming Thursday, I will be heading to Italy to meet up with other teachers and students from my previous job. It should be an interesting time. I am most looking forward to sleeping in a bed larger than twin size and taking some very long very hot showers without feeling guilty.

More Observations

March 5, 2011 12:58 local time

Here are a few things I’ve noticed:

Young women here wear pantyhose. They wear flesh colored panty hose and not only with dresses but with shorts. Although I attempt to respect cultural differences, this is just plain weird. I remember wearing panty hose in middle school and around that time, panty hose went out of fashion for all those under 50 or so. I know of no one my age who wears panty hose even in formal occasions, no less with shorts. We wear tights or leggings but shed the binding and discomfort of panty hose ages ago. Perhaps I can bring about a panty hose revolution while I’m here.

The food here is not that flavorful to me. I realize, of course, that food in different countries is different. I expected there to be more vegetables at meals here than what I would normally eat at home. I expected to eat the big meal of the day in the middle of the afternoon. I expected unusual meats and seafood that I would have to politely decline to try. What I did not expect is that the food would not have much flavor. Perhaps my palate has been conditioned by the plethora of salt in American food but I’m just not tasting much when I eat here. Even the junk food snacks don’t have much flavor. After a few months, perhaps my palate will grow accustomed to this and I will begin to taste more variety in this food.

Siestas are so popular that even the fountains take them. Let me begin by saying that the hours that they keep in Spain are very different than the hours that are typically kept in the US. They stay up much later in the evenings and get up later in the morning. Lunch is between 2 and 4. Most business close around 1 or 2 in the afternoon and reopen around 5 or 6 so that everyone can go home, eat some lunch, and take a siesta. Every time I have discussed the siesta with the Senora or Abuela (Grandma) at my house, their response is always that I must take the siesta. So here, napping is not considered a sign of laziness but rather something that is to be encouraged. Now that, I like. Besides businesses being closed during the siesta and streets generally being empty, I’ve noticed that the fountains (and there are a lot of them) are also turned off at this time.

Spaniards know a lot about the US. When I’ve told people that I was from the US, their first question is always “Which state?” In the beginning, this surprised me. How do the Spaniards know all about our states? I do not know about their regions. As the weeks have passed, the reason for this has become clear. There are a plethora of American television shows on Spanish TV. My teachers have remarked several times about things they thought about the US from TV. The shows are typically dubbed over with Spanish voices although the remote control allows one to push a button to remove the dubbing. Although I haven’t watched much TV yet, some American shows I’ve seen on Spanish TV include:

Friends
All of Nickelodeon including Sponge Bob and iCarly
The entire Disney Channel
All of MTV
Malcolm in the Middle
Twin Peaks
Mad Men
Castle
Scooby Doo
Without a Trace
Criminal Minds
Two and a Half Men
The Simpsons
Family Guy
V (the original series, not the new one)
CSI Miami
CSI New York
CSI (original series in Las Vegas)

Jamón! Jamón! Everywhere!

February 27, 2011 1:01 PM local time

Yesterday, I went with other students from other language schools on an excursion to Las Alpujarras. These are small towns in the Sierra Nevada Mountains near Granada. Our guide spoke only in Spanish but I understood most of what he said. I believe he said that these towns were formed when the Muslims were pushed out of/fled Granada. That was the impression I got anyway.

We toured the towns, learned a little about their history and culture, and were able to sample some local fare. In one town, we tried the jamón (salt cured ham) and vino (wine). In another town, we had lunch. I knew my regular lunch would be waiting for me at the apartment when I got back so I went light on the lunch and had a salad. Plus, I was not feeling well from sitting in the back of the van driving on the curviest roads I’ve ever seen. After lunch, we were able to tour a jamóm making facility.

At this facility, there were three types jamóm processed. The Serrano type comes from the back legs of a cerdo blanco (white hog) that is from a large commercial hog feeding facility. It takes them about 8 months to fatten up to the right size. The jamóm of the front legs is referred to as patetillla. The third type is Ibérico, which comes from a cerdo negro (black hog) that is from a small farm and has eaten a steady diet of acorns. These hogs take about 2 years to fatten up and this jamóm is very expensive. The jamóm is cured at a rate of one day per pound in only salt. They are then maintained in facility at low temperatures for times of up to two years. Before being sold, each jamóm is marked with its type and how long it was in the facility. I should mention that this facility is in the highest town in the Sierra Nevada Mountains which helps to keep temperature cool in the building. The top peak of these mountains is at 11,411 feet. For reference, the highest peak in the Rockies is 14,440 feet and in the Smokies is 6643 feet. So, these are some pretty high mountains.

The facility was immaculately clean. You will notice in the pictures that the floors are white marble tile. I’ve noticed there is a lot of marble and other stone used throughout this area. Heck, even the Burger King had white marble columns.

There is also a picture of the ceiling from the restaurant which had about 8 billion jamómes hanging from it. Each had a little cup poked in the end. This is for in the summer months when the jamómes “sweat” grease.

The houses in the Las Alpujarras were old. Really old. Like made-of-stone old. Most were painted white and had roofs made of large stones. On top of these large stones was frequently a smaller gravel. The houses were really piled on top of each other and felt like they could fall off the mountain side at any moment. Most of the houses had a short first floor as this was where the animals were kept when the houses were first built. The people then lived on the second floor. Most streets in these towns were too narrow for cars and many had a mountain and rain water drainage system running down the middle. Many houses and businesses also had beaded curtains hanging in the doorway. This not only blocked the sun but mosquitoes will not pass through them. This is an alternative to a screen door.

The picture with the large stone basins is the old Laundromat. The water would run down from the mountains into the basins and the ladies would launder the clothes in there.

Today is Sunday and I’m planning to just relax and rest up. Tomorrow we do not have school as it is a holiday, the day that celebrates this region of the country. I’m hoping that in the next two days, I can do a little studying, some reading for pleasure, soak up a little sun, and maybe see a movie.

Tapas! Finalmente!

Today I finally tried tapas. Well one tapa to be exact.

Bomi, a girl from Korea who is studying Spanish at my school, asked me if I had gone for tapas yet. I told her I had not yet tried this famous aspect of Granada. She said we must go after class so I could try it. Well, I think that's what she said. My Spanish is not so great yet. (As a side note, Bomi studied English for 12 years in Korea but they only ever read and wrote, no speaking or listening. Thus, she is not able to communicate with me in English very well.) Anyway, after class, around 12:30, we went to a tapas place. I LOVED it. When you order a drink, you get a tapa for free. I ordered a Coke and Bomi had a wine without alcohol. Then, for the tapa, we received a serrano ham sandwich on a bagel with tomato and a side of fries. The cost? 2.20 Euros each or less than $3. Pretty good deal. The fries also had some kind of amazing tasting mayonaisse or aoli on the side. I would definitely like to do this again soon. You really can't beat the price.

Tomorrow, I am headed to Las Alpujarras, a series of small villages in the Sierra Nevada Mountains. The trip is an excursion arranged for students of the various language schools in Granada. I'll have to leave to walk to the meeting point around 8 a.m. and I'll get back around 9 p.m.. It should be very interesting and it will be good for me to get out of the city for a while, get some fresh air, and see some other parts of Spain. I've had a few headaches, I think due to the amount of car exhaust. It will do me good to get out of town for a day.

I just checked, and, according to my records, in the last 7 days I have walked for 18 hours and 20 minutes. Wow. I was down two notches on my belt a week ago but I've not gone down anymore since then. I have had a TON of vegetables and fruit which are good and the selection of chips and other junk food here is very weak (also a good thing).

Observations

February 23, 2011 3:43 PM/10:43 PM

Just a few observations I’ve made in the last week and a half:

• · I am of average height here. I am taller than many people. This is a new feeling.
• · Spaniards eat more fruit than Americans, in general.
• · Granada has a staggering number of clothing, shoe, grocery, paper, and book stores as well as cafes, bars, and restaurants which leads me to wonder how challenging it is for businesses to survive in such stiff competition.
• · Everyone I’ve bought something from has been very patient with my Spanish.
• · Wine is very cheap. My friends bought some (tasted good to me) for 1.3 € or $1.78.
• · My meal today was one I’d never had before: rice with tomato sauce spooned on top with a fried egg, a large hot dog looking piece of meat, and fried bananas. I couldn’t eat the bananas. I’ve been saying no to bananas since I was first allowed to, sometime in elementary school.
• · Even though it was 62 degrees here today, many of the locals stayed bundled up in wool coats and scarves (sometimes two scarves). If I’d been at home, I would have been in a swimsuit in the yard. This proves, once again, that temperature can be relative.
• · Junk food update – the Cheetos here don’t have much flavor. They taste like generic cheese puffs. They seem to only have puffy Cheetos and not crunchy Cheetos.
• · There are a plethora of benches but not much grass. I had to really search to find a patch of grass on which to sit, study, and soak up some sun.
• · The chip/snack aisle is only one half of one side of the aisle rather than all the way down both sides.
• · Thus far, in Granada, I’ve seen a Burger King, Dunkin Donuts, (called Dunkin Coffee) and a Domino’s Pizza.

A Little Sun & A Lot of Walking

February 22, 2011 8:53 a.m./3:53 a.m.

The last few days have been pretty busy. Saturday night, I attended the flamenco with some friends from school (they are from Holland, Denmark, and Spain). I liked the music of flamenco but the dancing lady was too over the top and reminded me of my sister’s interpretive dance with the “tree” and the “rock”. It was too dramatic and exaggerated.

I slept in until noon on Saturday and 12:30 on Sunday. I had not gone to bed that late but I guess I was exhausted from all the jet lag. I spent most of Sunday afternoon sitting in the grass in the park studying my Spanish. When the sun was out from behind the clouds, it was pretty warm. When it was behind the clouds, it felt fairly chilly. I found it interesting that it was difficult to locate a patch of grass on which to sit in Granada. There are a plethora of benches in many plazas but grass is hard to come by. Luckily I was able to find a small patch in an area that was not shaded by any buildings. I studied there for several hours and “drank the sun” as they say in Spanish.

Monday, class began at 9 a.m. and finished at 12:30 p.m.. The school had a walk scheduled through the center of the city at 3:00 p.m.. During the time between class and the walk, I had a snack and took a walk around the southern part of the city. I then attended the school’s walk/tour with mi amiga Ida who is from Sweden. After that walk finished, we sat in a large park and did more “drinking of the sun”. We then walked to Spanish Target to get a few things and I returned the apartment of my host family in early evening. All in all, I walked four hours on Monday and all of it in knee high boots with a heels. Ouch. I was so exhausted that, at 8:30 p.m., I was falling asleep while sitting and writing the answers to my homework. That was the first time I’d ever fallen asleep while writing before. I gave up on the homework for the night and just went to sleep.

Today, in addition to regular class, Ida and I also attended an extra lecture on grammar. It was great and cleared up quite a few things. Our teacher, however, distracted me. She was a new teacher and had to be close to 6 feet tall and was a little broad. This is extremely unusual for a Spaniard yet it is our understanding that all of our teachers are from Spain. Women in Spain are not tall like this and not broad. Thus, it was hard to focus on verb usage when I kept trying to figure out where she came from.

After class, Ida and I went to find a café that serves churros with chocolate (for dipping) that was recommended by my dad’s cousin. That was a great recommendation. The churros were very delicious. They tasted similar to elephant ears plus you could dip them in the chocolate. It was a tasty snack but one should not have them often. I think I will call that my supper for the night. All in all, I really didn’t have a long walking day with only 1 hour 45 minutes logged but all of it in comfortable shoes, thank goodness.