Layin in bed all day

Sometimes, you need a day to not talk to anyone, not see anything, not do anything besides lay in bed. Today was that day. I took a shower because I was gross from my trip, but other than that I laid in bed.

Yesterday was amazing. Barcelona is gorgeous, and I took so many pictures that I don't know what to do. I saw Casa Batllo, the outside of la Pedrera, Plaza Catalanya, Plaza de Espanya, some random giant castles, the huge Barcelona port system, their World Trade Center, rode one of those cable car things that go through the air and tried sake. I guess I did a lot of things, but it doesn't really feel like it. There was so much left to see. I barely scraped the surface.

Oh well. That just means I have an excuse to take someone with me next time.

Barcelona Dream

Thatś the name of my hostel.

Barcelona is like a dream though, the architecture is out of this world, there are trees everywhere, itś right on the beach. All in all, a lovely sort of place. They all speak Catalan though, which makes it a little hard to practice Spanish. Ive pretty much just been speaking English, since everyone here speaks that. Barcelona is a definite difference from Sevilla.

I have had the most ridiculous two days of my life so far. I`m posting on here before trying to go find some food. My plan is to wake up tomorrow and start this over. Hopefully I'll get to the beach, Casa Batlló and La Pedrera. Those are the only three things I actually want to see here.

Yesterday, I got accosted by an old pervert who attempted to expose himself to me in Sevilla. Then I went to one of the most brilliant performances I have ever seen, a two piano piece by Mozart which was executed with amazing animation by the del Valle brothers from Malaga, who are now officially one of my must see things in life. They are absolutely phenomenal. Then I went directly to a fiesta at the school, where I discovered that I in fact like white wine and that flamenco dancing is highly amusing. Went to bed at about 130 or 2, got up this morning at 515 because I couldn't sleep anymore and took a shower, whereupon I got yelled at by my señora because I was taking a shower at 5 am. Then I got ripped off by a cab driver, and then I got on the plane. Ryanair, by the way, is a highly sketch flying company, but cheap when you don't pack anything really. You just pick a rather uncomfortable seat and you're off. Unfortunately, the airport I was going to was not the airport I actually thought I was going to, which led to me having to spend about two extra hours commuting. Then I went to the Sagrada Familia and Parque Güell, which are examples of Gaudí's work, and very impressive. Then I rode around on a tour bus for a while, and saw the FC Barcelona stadium and Barcelona.

At some point on this trip I realized that the world is very, very large.

A little bit after I realized that the world was sort of small, too.

And I also figured out that a couple of extra Euros will fix everything but awkward perverts asking for directions.

Go figure.

Three weeks

It's not a lot of time.

I am going to Barcelona this weekend. I've spent most of the day planning out the trip, and now am working on homework. I wrote a sweet poem yesterday, but the book is currently stagnated because I have been so busy every single day that I haven't had a chance to internalize my experiences and so I can't keep writing stuff that needs that sort of internal sense of composure like a novel does. Everything is poetry. Sporadic, random, knee-jerk poetry.

I am actually more or less going to Barcelona alone, though I know people who will be in the city when I am there. I will definitely coordinate with them, and I am staying in the same hostel with one of them, so if I don't come home it shouldn't be the end of the world. Meaning someone will notice. But I'm honestly not too worried about that, since I don't plan on being out after dark. I'm going to be tired.

I get to Barcelona by plane, and then I have to trade in my bus tour voucher immediately, then take a bullet train to the metro stop, where I have to take the metro to the last stop on the line, which is where my hostel is. I will check in, and hopefully get an idea of the area, then hop on a bus and ride around the city. The bus, once I get on it, goes to all the major tourist attractions, so my transportation will be therefore taken care of. At some point I'll get lunch. The bus will likely stop running around 6 pm or so, at which point I will have time to do some more scouting, rest and find dinner before bed. Past that point I'm not 100% sure what will happen. You'll know Sunday I guess. Since it's my first time planning a trip, I am not sure to what extent I want to plan and to what extent I want to leave myself room to improvise. It's actually been a somewhat eye-opening and exciting experience. Hopefully the trip itself will be too.

Back to translating Neruda.

Madrid and the Arab Baths

This weekend was a full one. Friday night I went to the Arab Baths, which was phenomenal. I highly suggest going if you ever get the chance. Public baths are now one of my favorite things. Officially.

Then, Saturday morning, I took the AVE to Madrid. Which was also amazing. The city is green, it's like going home. And the artwork we saw was amazing. I saw one of my prefered pieces by Dali, and Guernica, and some by Georgia O' Keeffe. It was awesome.

Classes are registered for. Next semester I will be taking Senior Sem, Japanese (which is going to be hard after all this time off), Span Lit, and Plants and People, probs to be my easiest class. I'm also hopefully going to test out of my computer science requirement so I don't have to take that.

Anyways, almost time for class.

23 days.

An interesting realization

There are officially more posts on this blog than there are days left until I leave Spain.

I am sickly, and it is highly lame. Especially since we have class tomorrow (blasphemous) and I am going to be in Madrid all day Saturday and Sunday. Needless to say it is unfortunate. I am hoping that it clears up in the next two days or so to something tolerable, because the whole coughing every five minutes thing has shredded my throat and it hurts. But enough of the complaining.

This week has been more or less uneventful. I had a very successful class with the children that I tutor Tuesday, which was exciting, because there happened to be a chalkboard and I decided we would illustrate English words. They enjoyed that, and didn't attack one another but once or twice. So that was exciting. Though I'm not sure how much English they are learning, since they don't seem to care much or understand anything I say when I talk to them in English. Except apple. And colors. So I'm not sure how that works really. It would help if there was any way for me to communicate with them about how much they think they're learning, but I don't know if they can get their minds around that, as they're very small. It would help if I had some idea of what their normal curriculum was in Spanish. Then I would know how much of what I was explaining they understood, in either language.

Still, its a job, and not the worst one I've had, though tiring. And they really aren't bad children, just hyperactive. So that's good. Makes me think twice about ever wanting to be a parent though lol. If all children are that rambunctious, I don't know if my poor antisocial self can deal.

With that said, it is time for dinner, so I had best be on my way. I have an exam to study for and a nap to take, probably not in that order.

Back to the daily grind

I am sickly. It is Semana Santa's fault.

Over break, I went out every day to see Cofradias. Cofradias are religious parades made up of several things. The cofradia begins with a band, which plays a set song for the cofradia, and is followed by nazarenos, the guys in the KKK hats, of colors specific to the church they are from. Behind the nazarenos come a second band and the first paso, which is usually a depiction of Jesus Christ from some point in the Passion. When I say depiction, I mean a life-sized and incredibly detailed, lacquered and painted wooden carving, which is set up upon a giant pallet of gorgeously carved wood, often coated in gold leaf, and decorated with flowers and ornate candles. These huge things are carried by people, who are covered by a thick cloth that goes around the paso. See following video, should it work.

After that come some penitentes, people in kkk hats without the cones underneath carrying giant wooden crosses on their backs. Usually they are barefoot. Then comes a paso of the Virgen Mary, also a life sized carving, but clothed in priceless fabrics and jewels, beneath a great canopy that supposedly represents her sorrow held up by silver or gold poles, followed by another band. They take around an hour on average to pass a given point. I saw at least one every day, most days two, from sunday, when they started marching, until la Madrugada, which is the night of Thursday/morning of Friday and has something to do with when Jesus was crucified, and is when all of the major cofradias march. I got in Friday morning after having been out all night in the sudden cold snap at 7:30 am, promptly passed out to the birdsong and woke up with a cold which I still have. But, while I would never do the Madrugada again unless someone I was with really wanted to see it or something, and certainly never do it in less than a full on winter coat, accompanied by a great quantity of rum, Semana Santa over all was perhaps the most profound example of cultural individuality I have come across in my short life. It was an illuminating and profound experience, and I don't think I would mind doing it again - during the daylight and/or evening (up til 1 am) hours.

Last blog was kinda horrendous

...so I'll do my best to make this one decent.

In McDonald's again, which definitely saps my concentration. I broke my headphones and there is so much ambient noise that it is hard to remember what I'm doing from one second to the next.

I realized that at some point I actually started to like it here. There are things I would change. I hate having a roommate, but I knew that. Not that my roommate is bad, we live together decently, but I am not a roommate person. Housemate yes.. Roommate no. And also my roommate really seems to dislike most aspects of Spanish life and that gets real depressing real fast. I also would, I think, have liked to try a different program, one that was more involved with actual Spanish people as opposed to mostly with Americans. I don't feel like this has been immersion at all. More like sticking my feet in the water. And that makes me inclined to see what I can get if I were to actually go all the way and throw myself into something. Maybe it was just being here without any of the ties to my old life for almost a week that made me more able to adapt. It's always harder to be two people, after all. I can't be the American and the person living in Spain if I've never had a chance to be a person living in Spain. And for a short time I had that chance, and honestly it was not the most horrible thing I've done by any means.

Being here has raised a lot of questions in my life, things that I think will firm up more as I make the transition back to the States. But the seeds are certainly planted, and I'm excited to see what grows now. Though I can't express anything that I'm feeling at this point completely, because I don't want to shatter it. Once I start analyzing it too much, I'm afraid that it will leave me.

Well, I'll report back on Monday.

Love

Sitting in McDonald's....again

McDonald's is the only place with internet. Grrr....

Semana Santa is amazing. I love Sevilla like this, all decked out with random religious fervor and celebration. Its creepy but that's also interesting. There is so much that I could say about it, but I don't have any sort of way to communicate what it is. There isn't a way, no one could understand without seeing it, but that's how all of life is I guess. So I think I'll try anyways.

First thing to understand is that it is a Catholic festival, but at the same time Spain has it's own version of Catholicism. So basically that means that everything is very different. I'll explain it better on Monday when I am ready to sit down a process all of it and have access to free internet.

Right now I am being questioned by a group of high school girls about why I'm here and if I like Sevilla in broken English. It's kinda adorable. They're all much better dressed than I am, which is depressing, but adorable.

Well, sorry this has been so broken and ridiculous. I hope that everyone is well. I am doing great, and very sad that classes will be starting again soon and this will be over, though I don't think my body can take much more of it.

Off I go to see more of this randomness!!

It's April : )

First, to answer the questions to the last post, the book is going fine except that I keep thinking of stuff to add to it. But my personal goal is to have a draft to let people read/edit by August. So I have some time.

Now....

It's April. And I am really happy about that.

I am going to miss parts of Sevilla. I'm going to miss how even though I've been walking back and forth to school every day I still manage to find new things to see or new paths to take. That's just cool. I like to be able to wander in a random direction and find pretty things.

And I am going to miss the bars too, and how you can just walk in off the street and start up a conversation and no one is too put out by it. And how they write their tabs with chalk on the bar. How they don't need music because everyone talks so much that there's no way you'd hear it anyways. How they always have Cruzcampo on tap at coffee shops, and pig legs hanging off the walls and smoke everywhere.

And to some extent, I'll even miss this merciless blue sky without clouds, and how when I walk down the street everyone stares at me and how I can't walk through the center without someone stopping me to ask me to go for a drink or for directions (awkward yes, but that's life for someone who doesn't have black hair, dark eyes, and godlike fashion sense).

And flamenco in the streets of course, and coming home at 6 in the morning when the birds are singing.

Not that these are things that I experience every day, or I might really love it here. Or hate it too. There are some days which are, well, for lack of a better word, normal - though Sevilla's normal is still life in another place, far away from anything I knew before. Not that that's not what I'm kinda expecting for the rest of my life as well.

Sometimes I worry about how it will be to go home. I worry that I'll have forgotten how to act. I'm certainly ruder here than I was at home, and there are a lot of things that I can do here that I can't there, and that I can't do here that I could at home. It is unavoidable that I will be changed. But my roommate seems to think it will be like riding a bike. I think that's probably true too. You can always go home. It's the one place you can never get lost from.

April is going to carry me closer than ever.