There should be a video on this page, but if it doesn't work.. GO HERE! (you should probably watch this)
31 October 2010
30 October 2010
26 October 2010
PICHITA
Today begins Halloween week, and this means nothing except that my babies (ages 12-35) get to try candy corn for the first time, thanks to my parents. Naturally, I'm way more excited about Halloween then anyone in Spain, mostly because they don't really celebrate it. It's definitely a more western holiday, and whatever they know about it boils down to horror, vampires and blood. It's easier for them to keep Halloween simple because Europeans have Carnival, which is way crazier than our 31st, so.. The kids have been participating a lot this week because I preface each lesson with "there is a surprise at the end of the class IF you speak English a lot. An AMERICAN surprise."Anyways, Friday I'm planning on dressing up a little, give them a real reason to stare at the white girl in the halls.
Today some notable things happened. First, with my 4th level "special" class we had mini oral exams. They just had to speak for about a minute about themselves. Their names, ages, birthdays, star signs (seeens), phone numbers and addresses. At the end of the hour they practiced asking me questions, but María, the professor, requested that they brainstorm questions with more complex answers instead of just, "how old are you?" "Do you have a boyfriend?" etc etc... So, with María's help the first few were really good, "what is your dream?" "What do you want to change in the world?" 3rd question, "what is your email address?" Muaahaha.. my turn to screw with them. The second they all realized I was going to tell them something they scrambled for pens and pencils.
Someone yells from the back of the room "Despacio, eh???!!!"
María screams back, "IN ENGLISH!"
Student responds, "Ehslow pleeez."
So I answer, "youwish@gmail.com."
Kids, "HUH????¿¿¿"
Me, "y-o-u-w-i-s-h-@gmail.com."
Smart kid that puts things together faster than the others, "Tu deseo?" (Your wish)
Rest of the class, "OOOOOOoooooh, her desire."
María, "NO NO NO. It's not possessive! 'Tú deseas en Castellano."
Me, "It's an expression."
María, "Google it."
Students giggle, so excited.
Later that day, 3rd years. We've been talking food for a week or so. Today they get to make their own menus for a restaurant. María requires them to have a vegetarian section for me, so amazing. Jordi is charging 10€ for whiskey. Not going there. Sheila is charging 22€ for hamburger and fish but only 2€ for wine, (she gave me a discount from the original 3€ menu price). And then there is Carlos. Carlos with his gold bling, huge diamond earrings, baggy pants and the first one to greet me everyday, "Hgggggiiiiii Karrrrrli." His restaurant is "in" New York. He tried to name it Pizzita (little pizza). Instead, in Spanish, he accidentally named it "Little Penis." María first explains to the class what Carlos did and then whispers to me, "Hehehe, there's only one reason why he did that, right?"
Halloween is Sunday and the Monday after is a holiday. Then I work Tuesday and Wednesday. And Thursday I'd normally work, however, the program requires some 3 hour mandatory group session, talk about logistics, our roles in the schools etc etc etc... Immediately after, John and I have a bus to catch to..... Calatayud! I left a bunch of stuff there over the summer instead of lugging it all home and back again, plus I really miss my homies and I get to visit my old school, show John small town Spain.
Pictures coming soon to my online Picasa album.
Ya'll having a nice week?
Hope your costumes are coming together nicely... Not sure where this years inspiration will come from but I could certainly revisit the past for ideas if need be.....!!!
Today some notable things happened. First, with my 4th level "special" class we had mini oral exams. They just had to speak for about a minute about themselves. Their names, ages, birthdays, star signs (seeens), phone numbers and addresses. At the end of the hour they practiced asking me questions, but María, the professor, requested that they brainstorm questions with more complex answers instead of just, "how old are you?" "Do you have a boyfriend?" etc etc... So, with María's help the first few were really good, "what is your dream?" "What do you want to change in the world?" 3rd question, "what is your email address?" Muaahaha.. my turn to screw with them. The second they all realized I was going to tell them something they scrambled for pens and pencils.
Someone yells from the back of the room "Despacio, eh???!!!"
María screams back, "IN ENGLISH!"
Student responds, "Ehslow pleeez."
So I answer, "youwish@gmail.com."
Kids, "HUH????¿¿¿"
Me, "y-o-u-w-i-s-h-@gmail.com."
Smart kid that puts things together faster than the others, "Tu deseo?" (Your wish)
Rest of the class, "OOOOOOoooooh, her desire."
María, "NO NO NO. It's not possessive! 'Tú deseas en Castellano."
Me, "It's an expression."
María, "Google it."
Students giggle, so excited.
Later that day, 3rd years. We've been talking food for a week or so. Today they get to make their own menus for a restaurant. María requires them to have a vegetarian section for me, so amazing. Jordi is charging 10€ for whiskey. Not going there. Sheila is charging 22€ for hamburger and fish but only 2€ for wine, (she gave me a discount from the original 3€ menu price). And then there is Carlos. Carlos with his gold bling, huge diamond earrings, baggy pants and the first one to greet me everyday, "Hgggggiiiiii Karrrrrli." His restaurant is "in" New York. He tried to name it Pizzita (little pizza). Instead, in Spanish, he accidentally named it "Little Penis." María first explains to the class what Carlos did and then whispers to me, "Hehehe, there's only one reason why he did that, right?"
Halloween is Sunday and the Monday after is a holiday. Then I work Tuesday and Wednesday. And Thursday I'd normally work, however, the program requires some 3 hour mandatory group session, talk about logistics, our roles in the schools etc etc etc... Immediately after, John and I have a bus to catch to..... Calatayud! I left a bunch of stuff there over the summer instead of lugging it all home and back again, plus I really miss my homies and I get to visit my old school, show John small town Spain.
Pictures coming soon to my online Picasa album.
Ya'll having a nice week?
Hope your costumes are coming together nicely... Not sure where this years inspiration will come from but I could certainly revisit the past for ideas if need be.....!!!
24 October 2010
EXTRA BLACK
Today, my tea is blacker and stronger than usual. First of all, I've been laying in bed since I got home last night/this morning, slept for a few hours, 5 or maybe 6.. Then, with no desire to move, be active, be a real human, I've allowed myself to get sucked into catching up on TV shows, responding to emails, chatting with my girl in Kenya, etc etc etc... I don't feel "100%" today, so the tea is extra black. I'm laying here, with 50 windows and tabs open on my little netbook screen, researching the California state propositions for the elections coming up. For that reason too, my tea is extra black. My mom has my absentee ballot and she is going to fill it out and send it in, once I can finish sifting through all this mumble-jumble bull shit campaign crap. I spent my pre-adulthood with my parents reminding me that "voting is a privilege" you should always vote. I think one time Caleb didn't, and Kelly gave him that look, like the second-nature, much used mom/teacher scowl thing she can do (26 years experience in the classroom with little 'free year odes' which is written phonetically for emphasis) and from 18 I was a proud voting American ready to be a part of the change. I never really questioned it, I am a citizen, I vote. End of story. Well now I have a new opinion.
There are 9 propositions on the state ballot, all of them of course have an opposing and supporting party. That makes 18 different groups, more or less (some of the YES on NO on share funding... 25 and 26 for example). MOST groups have raised (through donations and loans) at least 10 million dollars for the CAMPAIGN! MARKETING! 10 million freaking dollars times 18 is a number I hope I never know. So all that money, somewhere above 100 mil, only passes a bill which "create more jobs" and "provide more money for education." What disgusts me the most is that one group in particular, the California's Teachers Association has donated WELL over 15 million to certain campaigns, 8 million dollars alone on Prop 24. So why then, are educators getting laid off so often and so many children share a classroom with 40 other students and so many more are without books...?
My head hurts and my tea is extra black today.
22 October 2010
BUTXACA
Just like the Paisanos in Tortilla Flat need a jug of wine and a solid group of friends to snuggle with and pass the cold nights, the modern times call for a bottle of something extremely red (a hint of burnt orange) with a serious sting.
The list of reasons why my parents rule is infinite; being cared for in every aspect of my life is one of the best feelings as an adventuring 23 year old that likes to pack everything in a couple bags and cross oceans for a bit. Home is hard to stuff in my back pocket, that's why there are other ways, especially when the spirit of my family is so full of strength and power, which is why I decided to steal their souls before I left. My family could get me through the hardest times, luckily for me the trials have been moderate or perhaps the force of their beings have lessened the intensity and assuaged the fears. Either way, I feel good, well loved and very well cared for. Even though my mother underestimated the time it'd take to finish the bottle of Tapatío that I actually did put in my back pocket before coming back to Spain, there would've been a new one in no time without having to ask. 9 month absences keep her from knowing my daily eating habits and food intake like she used to when she packed my lunch every day until I was 18, a senior in high school. See?
I had to chase down this mystery package all over the city because sometimes efficiency works in extremely different ways country to country. It's finally sitting on my bed next to me. Candies for my students, a new article of clothing, recuerdos de home and of course, the liter bottle of Tapatío. The shirt is adorable mom, the candle smells amazing and the candy corn will blow my students' minds but truthfully all I could think of on the walk home, and for the last week is.. I cannot eat potatoes, eggs, soup, sandwiches or burritos again until I have my precious Tapa. The last 10 days or so have been fresh food meals, a lot of fruit and veggies, snacks (but even then, dips weren't pleasing the palate quite right) and cereal have filled the void of that powerful sting.
I rip open the package, pull out the shirt, hold it up, love it. Open the cute little candle box from The Wooden Wagon Toys and Folk Art (a little bit of whimsy is always a must, I hope one day you all get a package from Kelly and Dave, trinkets and toys and things to keep you smiling until the next one) and then another box within a box. Taped, padded with bags full of air and tissue paper. Then inside the box, another air tight baggie with bubble wrap and the most special cargo of all. I waited to eat breakfast until 1 in the afternoon for this. I open it up, without scissors or a knife, put it directly to my mouth to bite off the plastic cover. All I want is that succulent goodness to do a little dance on my tongue.. The first place it goes? In my eye. Yes, I got Tapatío in my eye.
Gluttony.
Turns out, the cap broke a little somewhere on the boat or plane or truck or the fall from the mail man's hands to the sidewalk. And then savage me had to rip the seal off with my teeth. Lesson learned.. Thank you for all the dental and orthodontic work in my youth, mom and dad. I will not abuse it again.
The list of reasons why my parents rule is infinite; being cared for in every aspect of my life is one of the best feelings as an adventuring 23 year old that likes to pack everything in a couple bags and cross oceans for a bit. Home is hard to stuff in my back pocket, that's why there are other ways, especially when the spirit of my family is so full of strength and power, which is why I decided to steal their souls before I left. My family could get me through the hardest times, luckily for me the trials have been moderate or perhaps the force of their beings have lessened the intensity and assuaged the fears. Either way, I feel good, well loved and very well cared for. Even though my mother underestimated the time it'd take to finish the bottle of Tapatío that I actually did put in my back pocket before coming back to Spain, there would've been a new one in no time without having to ask. 9 month absences keep her from knowing my daily eating habits and food intake like she used to when she packed my lunch every day until I was 18, a senior in high school. See?
I had to chase down this mystery package all over the city because sometimes efficiency works in extremely different ways country to country. It's finally sitting on my bed next to me. Candies for my students, a new article of clothing, recuerdos de home and of course, the liter bottle of Tapatío. The shirt is adorable mom, the candle smells amazing and the candy corn will blow my students' minds but truthfully all I could think of on the walk home, and for the last week is.. I cannot eat potatoes, eggs, soup, sandwiches or burritos again until I have my precious Tapa. The last 10 days or so have been fresh food meals, a lot of fruit and veggies, snacks (but even then, dips weren't pleasing the palate quite right) and cereal have filled the void of that powerful sting.
I rip open the package, pull out the shirt, hold it up, love it. Open the cute little candle box from The Wooden Wagon Toys and Folk Art (a little bit of whimsy is always a must, I hope one day you all get a package from Kelly and Dave, trinkets and toys and things to keep you smiling until the next one) and then another box within a box. Taped, padded with bags full of air and tissue paper. Then inside the box, another air tight baggie with bubble wrap and the most special cargo of all. I waited to eat breakfast until 1 in the afternoon for this. I open it up, without scissors or a knife, put it directly to my mouth to bite off the plastic cover. All I want is that succulent goodness to do a little dance on my tongue.. The first place it goes? In my eye. Yes, I got Tapatío in my eye.
Gluttony.
Turns out, the cap broke a little somewhere on the boat or plane or truck or the fall from the mail man's hands to the sidewalk. And then savage me had to rip the seal off with my teeth. Lesson learned.. Thank you for all the dental and orthodontic work in my youth, mom and dad. I will not abuse it again.
¡Buen provecho ya'll!
17 October 2010
P3
The Pope
is coming to Barcelona. Ya, ok, big deal. Actually, it kind of is. WHY? <------ CLICK. Anyways, people are trippin'. There are ads all over the city, all over the internet to rent out balcony spaces.. the price: 500 minimum. And that is not in pesetas, puhleeeease €€€€€€€€€€
Patatas.
So the search continues for the best of the best of the best (vegetarian) Spanish dish there is. Patatas bravas, o sea, when translated into English as many bars and restaurants like to do, POTATOES with BRAVE sauce. Simple. Fried potatoes and a delicious sauce, extra spicy if they'll let you. Whenever I say I want the spiciest they can make it, they double check like 3 or 4 times. Spaniards do not eat spicy food, ketchup burns my friend Javi's mouth. Pobre.
Poop
is an important part of everyone's life. YUP. Have you ever tried to be very extra aware of the amount of fiber that you're ingesting every day? Well, to my surprise, I discovered some of the best foods are packed full of this magical component. Fiber comes from plants and make the world of a difference in one of our most crucial . . . daily human rituals. Because this ritual is so important, why not try and have the best experience ever? FIBER FIBER FIBER. Raspberries, apples, avocados and my favorite vegetable, broccoli. And spoil yourself every now then, sneak some fiber cookies in with tea time (dip them in nutella even!) or with your bowl of ice cream. Don't worry, tomorrow you'll thank me. But then the next day, and next and the next.. you'll be thanking the newest frequent visitor to your gastrointestinal tract.
is coming to Barcelona. Ya, ok, big deal. Actually, it kind of is. WHY? <------ CLICK. Anyways, people are trippin'. There are ads all over the city, all over the internet to rent out balcony spaces.. the price: 500 minimum. And that is not in pesetas, puhleeeease €€€€€€€€€€
Patatas.
So the search continues for the best of the best of the best (vegetarian) Spanish dish there is. Patatas bravas, o sea, when translated into English as many bars and restaurants like to do, POTATOES with BRAVE sauce. Simple. Fried potatoes and a delicious sauce, extra spicy if they'll let you. Whenever I say I want the spiciest they can make it, they double check like 3 or 4 times. Spaniards do not eat spicy food, ketchup burns my friend Javi's mouth. Pobre.
Poop
is an important part of everyone's life. YUP. Have you ever tried to be very extra aware of the amount of fiber that you're ingesting every day? Well, to my surprise, I discovered some of the best foods are packed full of this magical component. Fiber comes from plants and make the world of a difference in one of our most crucial . . . daily human rituals. Because this ritual is so important, why not try and have the best experience ever? FIBER FIBER FIBER. Raspberries, apples, avocados and my favorite vegetable, broccoli. And spoil yourself every now then, sneak some fiber cookies in with tea time (dip them in nutella even!) or with your bowl of ice cream. Don't worry, tomorrow you'll thank me. But then the next day, and next and the next.. you'll be thanking the newest frequent visitor to your gastrointestinal tract.
11 October 2010
LA VUELTA
Welcome back!
¡Bienvenidos!
¡BENVINGUTS!
Have you been to Barcelona before? If you answered 'NO' to this question, immediately begin searching for a flight to come visit. My obsession for Barna will not let you leave here second guessing that there is a greater city in the world. THIS city is the cheese! la leche!
Today marks the 19th day back in my city, la de mi corazón, and I am settled (very) comfortably in an apartment in the gayborhood, living with a bunch of loco Colombians (with a really cute 2 year old named Gerard) who eat liver, steak, potatoes and rice for every meal-every day, a decked out gypsy den and my über hippie roommate, a rooftop patio with views of the ocean, Plaza España, Montjuïc/Olympic stadium, Park Güell (Gaudi's housing development), Tibidabo (a tall mountain where the devil offered Jesus all the land if he fell down and began worshiping him) and of course the infamous penis building that lights up with a rainbow of colors at...night? Holidays?
Anyways, if you've noticed with my extremely obnoxious run-on sentence, I haven't been back to work for too many days. Classes started last week but I only went in to do paperwork and meet one of the classes (a bunch of 17/18 year olds, no surprise but they all look older than me) so more or less I'll be starting for real this week. But not today! Nor tomorrow! If I haven't talked your head off about how amazing Spain is and you don't already know the way schedules and things work in a country (this one in particular) founded and based on Catholicism (and actually, recently free from an awful dictatorship, they've only had 4 presidents in the new Democracy!) then let me just very quickly explain: SPANIARDS NEVER WORK! The bare minimum, of course, hay que sobrevivir. However, (not sure if you can begin a sentence with a conjunctive adverb) it is more common to have a long 3/4/5 day weekend then a regular 2 day weekend. For every city, every pueblo, every region, province, barrio... there exists a patron saint, something "sacred" to "honor"... I'm sure those of the more conservative and traditional, older generations still do so in a very Catholic manner. For the rest of us, it means, no school, no work, fiesta, fiesta, fiesta. The best part is.. most of these holidays fall on a Tuesday or Thursday, in which case, the day before or after (the Monday or Friday) also become part of the holiday (puente). Lucky for me, my work is education and we definitely receive most of the free days. (THIS IS ALL ON TOP OF THE FEW HOURS IN THE AFTERNOON SET ASIDE FOR SIESTA).
So, more to tell on the school front later. Though I must say, my colleagues are all really amazing, speak amazing English and are really enthusiastic for my role as American Cultural Ambassador to Catalonia (hahaha, yes, super legit!). Everyone outside of the department of English has also been really welcoming and the best part is, they all speak Catalan to me which I understand more or less, but I couldn't speak it to save my life, which is why.... I enrolled in a 6 hour a week Catalan class (¡GRATIS!) So excited to get my brain wheels moving again (in a classroom setting I mean, where I am the student), can't believe I'll be starting my 2nd romance language! Perhaps this will be a nice preparation for Portuguese, French or.........
Lastly, I just missed the summer season here, got maybe 3 or 4 days of it but I arrived the official day of fall and Barcelona was definitely ready for it. It's been muggy and cloudy the past couple weeks (some may think that it would be uninviting for tourists, but Barna is constantly flooded with visitors, which is why ya'll shouldn't shy away, everyone speaks English! And Spanish too! And Catalan, Italian, Portuguese, German, Mandarin, Hindi, Arabic, French...) with a few exceptions.. and as much as I want to fight it, I realize (because of my mom) that fall and winter aren't SO bad, especially being here, the mecca of Euro fashion.. BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS. Plus, it means I can comfortably eat soup for dinner every night =)
It's been a productive holiday weekend, with most of the legalities and visa stuff behind me, I have a membership to the public bike share system (Bicing), am struggling to keep our herb garden alive without too much sun, hosted my friend Alex for a day, continue to deck out our den with street treasures (more on that later) and we are temporarily winning the war against the cucarachas in these cursed old world constructed and very worn apartment bulidings...
With that, I leave you with a story titled, 'Reasons Why I Love Languages'.
On Saturday, Jean (aforementioned über hippie roommate.. we actually met here in Barcelona 3 years ago when we were studying abroad. He's from Los Angeles and graduated from UCSB. He won't be a stranger to this blog or this year) and I went to the grocery story to get a few things and we decided while we were there, it was probably best we purchased a bottle of cheap-ish whiskey should we have the hankering for a cocktail in the near future. The brand we decided on was DYC. Whiskey DYC. The liquor here is usually locked in a cabinet so we told the cashier, we'd like a bottle of whiskey please, the D-Y-C whiskey, spelling out the letters for her. Her response? For affirmation, she asks us: "Whiskey DYC?" (prounounced dick) Being the only English speakers in the supermarket, Jean and I start giggling because she has no idea what she just said. Now everyone is all curious as to what just happened in our exchange of words, so we go on to explain to not only the cashier, a Spanish woman in her early 40s but to 5-7 other Spaniards in line, the meaning of "Whiskey dick" in English. The end.
I've taken 1 photo since I've been here (Jean, friend Gabriel, some Spaniard who invited us to his wedding and I wearing animal hats) so for now, I leave you with a link to roommate Jean's photo album HERE
¡Bienvenidos!
¡BENVINGUTS!
Have you been to Barcelona before? If you answered 'NO' to this question, immediately begin searching for a flight to come visit. My obsession for Barna will not let you leave here second guessing that there is a greater city in the world. THIS city is the cheese! la leche!
Today marks the 19th day back in my city, la de mi corazón, and I am settled (very) comfortably in an apartment in the gayborhood, living with a bunch of loco Colombians (with a really cute 2 year old named Gerard) who eat liver, steak, potatoes and rice for every meal-every day, a decked out gypsy den and my über hippie roommate, a rooftop patio with views of the ocean, Plaza España, Montjuïc/Olympic stadium, Park Güell (Gaudi's housing development), Tibidabo (a tall mountain where the devil offered Jesus all the land if he fell down and began worshiping him) and of course the infamous penis building that lights up with a rainbow of colors at...night? Holidays?
Anyways, if you've noticed with my extremely obnoxious run-on sentence, I haven't been back to work for too many days. Classes started last week but I only went in to do paperwork and meet one of the classes (a bunch of 17/18 year olds, no surprise but they all look older than me) so more or less I'll be starting for real this week. But not today! Nor tomorrow! If I haven't talked your head off about how amazing Spain is and you don't already know the way schedules and things work in a country (this one in particular) founded and based on Catholicism (and actually, recently free from an awful dictatorship, they've only had 4 presidents in the new Democracy!) then let me just very quickly explain: SPANIARDS NEVER WORK! The bare minimum, of course, hay que sobrevivir. However, (not sure if you can begin a sentence with a conjunctive adverb) it is more common to have a long 3/4/5 day weekend then a regular 2 day weekend. For every city, every pueblo, every region, province, barrio... there exists a patron saint, something "sacred" to "honor"... I'm sure those of the more conservative and traditional, older generations still do so in a very Catholic manner. For the rest of us, it means, no school, no work, fiesta, fiesta, fiesta. The best part is.. most of these holidays fall on a Tuesday or Thursday, in which case, the day before or after (the Monday or Friday) also become part of the holiday (puente). Lucky for me, my work is education and we definitely receive most of the free days. (THIS IS ALL ON TOP OF THE FEW HOURS IN THE AFTERNOON SET ASIDE FOR SIESTA).
So, more to tell on the school front later. Though I must say, my colleagues are all really amazing, speak amazing English and are really enthusiastic for my role as American Cultural Ambassador to Catalonia (hahaha, yes, super legit!). Everyone outside of the department of English has also been really welcoming and the best part is, they all speak Catalan to me which I understand more or less, but I couldn't speak it to save my life, which is why.... I enrolled in a 6 hour a week Catalan class (¡GRATIS!) So excited to get my brain wheels moving again (in a classroom setting I mean, where I am the student), can't believe I'll be starting my 2nd romance language! Perhaps this will be a nice preparation for Portuguese, French or.........
Lastly, I just missed the summer season here, got maybe 3 or 4 days of it but I arrived the official day of fall and Barcelona was definitely ready for it. It's been muggy and cloudy the past couple weeks (some may think that it would be uninviting for tourists, but Barna is constantly flooded with visitors, which is why ya'll shouldn't shy away, everyone speaks English! And Spanish too! And Catalan, Italian, Portuguese, German, Mandarin, Hindi, Arabic, French...) with a few exceptions.. and as much as I want to fight it, I realize (because of my mom) that fall and winter aren't SO bad, especially being here, the mecca of Euro fashion.. BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS BOOTS. Plus, it means I can comfortably eat soup for dinner every night =)
It's been a productive holiday weekend, with most of the legalities and visa stuff behind me, I have a membership to the public bike share system (Bicing), am struggling to keep our herb garden alive without too much sun, hosted my friend Alex for a day, continue to deck out our den with street treasures (more on that later) and we are temporarily winning the war against the cucarachas in these cursed old world constructed and very worn apartment bulidings...
With that, I leave you with a story titled, 'Reasons Why I Love Languages'.
On Saturday, Jean (aforementioned über hippie roommate.. we actually met here in Barcelona 3 years ago when we were studying abroad. He's from Los Angeles and graduated from UCSB. He won't be a stranger to this blog or this year) and I went to the grocery story to get a few things and we decided while we were there, it was probably best we purchased a bottle of cheap-ish whiskey should we have the hankering for a cocktail in the near future. The brand we decided on was DYC. Whiskey DYC. The liquor here is usually locked in a cabinet so we told the cashier, we'd like a bottle of whiskey please, the D-Y-C whiskey, spelling out the letters for her. Her response? For affirmation, she asks us: "Whiskey DYC?" (prounounced dick) Being the only English speakers in the supermarket, Jean and I start giggling because she has no idea what she just said. Now everyone is all curious as to what just happened in our exchange of words, so we go on to explain to not only the cashier, a Spanish woman in her early 40s but to 5-7 other Spaniards in line, the meaning of "Whiskey dick" in English. The end.
I've taken 1 photo since I've been here (Jean, friend Gabriel, some Spaniard who invited us to his wedding and I wearing animal hats) so for now, I leave you with a link to roommate Jean's photo album HERE
19 April 2010
A DAY IN THE LIFE
This is exactly what I didn't want to happen. I've gotten more than a month behind on my blogging, and since the "arrival" of spring, I haven't really thought about writing. I'll do my best to update with words since I've been a couple months sans camera.
Mid-March, Emily and I took a road trip down to beautiful Valencian coast to marvel at the spectacle that is Les Falles. 20-30 neighborhoods in the city spend all year brainstorming, fund raising and constructing these monuments ('falles' in Catalan, 'fallas' in Spanish) which are usually a satirical or extreme interpretation of anyone or anything in the public eye. Some of them just look like random scenes or ideas, but most of them hold national if not international meaning. Anyways, Emily and I decided to make our trip a little more unconventional. So we rented a car. Most European cars are manuals. Not a problem, I remember those first few horror days of driving into LOP with my new 5-speed and having an anxiety attack because the cars behind me were creeping way too close. Unfortunately, though I live independently half way across the world from my parents, I cannot rent a car in Spain. (Couple more weeks though, and 22 will no longer be stopping me from conquering the planet). My cougar friend Emily, however, was 23 at the time. She does not drive a stick. So as theHertz lady says to me, "TÚ NO CONDUCES" Emily and I are scheming as to how the hell we're going to get the car off the lot, with her behind the wheel. We get escorted to our neon blue Ford and with Emily's calm and patient demeanor and my frantic "THIS IS WHAT A CLUTCH IS" speech, she successfully launched (And when I say launched, you totally know what I'm talking about, right? Gas, gas, gas, gas, gas, foot pops off the clutch and BOOM, you're peeling out and flying forward) the car out into the middle of a city intersection in Zaragoza and within 3 mintues, we coasted to safety. I'm just going to say it.. Emily was super 'clutch' in that moment.
Did I mention that we rented the car with plans to sleep in it? Because, yes.. that happened.
Mid-March, Emily and I took a road trip down to beautiful Valencian coast to marvel at the spectacle that is Les Falles. 20-30 neighborhoods in the city spend all year brainstorming, fund raising and constructing these monuments ('falles' in Catalan, 'fallas' in Spanish) which are usually a satirical or extreme interpretation of anyone or anything in the public eye. Some of them just look like random scenes or ideas, but most of them hold national if not international meaning. Anyways, Emily and I decided to make our trip a little more unconventional. So we rented a car. Most European cars are manuals. Not a problem, I remember those first few horror days of driving into LOP with my new 5-speed and having an anxiety attack because the cars behind me were creeping way too close. Unfortunately, though I live independently half way across the world from my parents, I cannot rent a car in Spain. (Couple more weeks though, and 22 will no longer be stopping me from conquering the planet). My cougar friend Emily, however, was 23 at the time. She does not drive a stick. So as the
Did I mention that we rented the car with plans to sleep in it? Because, yes.. that happened.
This is the miniature version of the Falle that is actually a couple stories high. It's called a ninot (Catalan for dolls). The Falles can cost over 100,000€ to construct and did I already say that they burn the shit out of them at the end of the festival?
Spain is having a hard time getting things right lately. 2nd to worst economy in Europe and, without a care in the environmental world, burns numerous plastic and rubber structures every year. Despite that, Spain's encanto will never diminish. It's all about tradition, anyways.
Later that month, arrived one of the best vacation weeks in the whole year. Spring break, baby. Sara and I decided to stay local and head south to Seville and Cadiz. Seville is known for it's elaborate and most well known Holy Week festival compared to all other cities in Spain. We didn't know that. Pre-departure, the only response we received was the Spanish hand gesture for "LOTS OF PEOPLE." True that, these Aragoneses know what they're talking about. It was an intense transition from pueblo life in Aragon to major big city with it's biggest festival going down. We handled it well though, because it was almost a 20 degree temperature increase and there was not a shortage of marvels to...marvel at. Though I admittedly haven't done my research on KKK garb, it just makes sense that the style was stolen from an ÜBER religious and sacred celebration of Holy Week in the Catholic world. This was not a familiar sight for me. Imagine, hundreds and thousands of people in "KKK dress" (if you will) parading the streets, dragging black crosses, holding the body of Jesus Cristo or the mourning Mother Mary. Objectivity is practically flowing through my Anthropological blood, but I can't pretend that the faceless bodies in white, black, green, purple (especially the one's in the middle of the night walking with 4 foot high burning candles) didn't make me feel weird... at first. Day one, I was hiding behind the old people in wheel chairs as little children approached this figures, pulling at their coattails, asking forcandy . CREEEEEEEEEEPY. Day two felt better, and from there on out, it really just became a bother because these parades ran day and night, sun-up to sun-down to sun-up again and more than anything, made it a cluster-fuck of people who prevented me from getting back to my hotel every night. The rest of spring break was absolutely brilliant. We flew from Seville to Barcelona where 2 became a group of 6+ and I was on a mission to make everyone obsess as much over Barna as I do. I think the city should thank me, and then hire me to live there forever. Good weather, good eats and good people to kick start my favorite season of the year. Anyways, less talk, how about some cultural immersion through foticos. Enjoy! Oh one last thing, remember Christopher Columbus ? Well, he left on his second voyage out of the Cadiz port, and as he sailed away, waved to the King and Queen who stood on their royal balcony. It still exists today, believe me!
Ladies in black lace on Holy Thursday.
Making friends, peace. Trying to anyways
The man.
Where the important people sit for the holy processions.
Plaza España in Seville.
Cádiz.
The BCN troop, more or less.
If you want to join my Barcelona tours, they include minimum of a whole afternoon in the park climbing trees.
We spent a beautiful Sunday afternoon in a nearby meadow. Shooting bows and arrows, playing frisbee, climbing on rocks and throwing our bodies around in the sun.
My girl Kendicita came and spent 3 or so weeks with me in my beloved Calatayud. My friends here embraced her, she fell in love with Spain de nuevo and we had the most blessed days together. She is tied for the most beautiful people on this earth.
Óscar's family owns the Jiu-Jitsu gym in Calatayud. His father invited us to come "play" and try it out. Turns out, most of the students are MY students at the highschool, black belts and badasses. I think I was expecting it to be more like Karate, do a little warm up stretching, etc etc.. First thing we have to do.. drop down on the ground and army crawl across the mats. After that, try and wrestle my students to the ground. They were patient and they definitely could've dominated me worse, but I like to think I put up a real fight. Nails!!!
With Óscar and my students. The blonde is the champion of Aragón. Cool life?!
Emily's colleague took us to have a photo shoot dressed in the traditional costumes worn for the festival of Alfonsadas in Calatayud which takes place the beginning of June. It's like a medieval festival, with plays and parades and of course, serious fiesta time. I may or may not be here, but either way, do you think my red vans go well with my Arab cape? (Sara is dressed like La Dolores, who is the famous prostitute of Calatayud, the reason why all of Spain knows of my pueblo)
A weekend mini-vacay to Fuerteventura of the Canary Islands. Did you know that they are Spanish territory but right off the western coast of northern Africa? Anyways, these are true desert islands complete with cabras salvajes (savage goats o sea, wild goats), sand dunes and camels. Chulísimo no? Personally, me da igual, the water was gorgeous, I'm a little morenita and yeah, the beach and sun heals all.
So blessed, and I don't even feel bad about it. HERE'S TO DOING WHAT YOU WANT WITH YOUR LIFE!
These are my little cutie students, private English lessons. From the left they are: Mar, Cristina and Sandra. We were practicing the present continuous in the form of 'going to + infinitive' and the objective was to tell each others' fortunes. Of course, for my enjoyment, I made them wrap their heads in sparkly scarves and rub an invisible glass sphere for a more realistic feel. Of course they loved it, they are 11 year old chiquitinas!
We try to do a weekly dinner with our friends as we only have a few weeks left and we're trying to aprovechar todo. Anyways, as promised to them, we had Mexican night, as you can see by the plate in the foreground, complete with guac, black beans, fajitas and SALSA PICANTE!!! Well, if you thought Spanish food was super exotic, that's false. It's good, really good,, but it lacks variety. You can go to ANY cafetería in any town/city across Spain and you will find the same exact menu as anywhere else. I actually like the idea in that it's about simplicity, straight alimentación instead of every restaurant in America that has to come up with THE most unique dish (though that is really fun as a consumer). Either way, spicy food absolutely does not exist here. Except for 'mojo' (pronounced moho but with a really strong back of the through hhhhhhh) which actually, comes from the Canary Islands. Anyways, on the (my) spice barometer, it's barely gets a 2. So with the surplus of Cholula, Tapatío and other chili sauces we've been gifted by our amazing families (shout out!!) in the States, my Spanish friends made me SUPER proud by not only trying them, indulging in the spice without glasses of milk to get them through it. Jorge, the bravest of them all totally dug the Tapatío though I don't know what happened in his stomach. I mean to put it intoperspective , Javi can't eat ketchup it's too spicy. HAHAHAHAHA, right??!
Well now I'm just excited I have someone to gift what remains of mygiant Tapa when I leave. Oh and also, Jorge peer pressured Oscar into only eating the food with hot sauce because (that's freaking objectivity) and I quote him, "¡ASÍ SE COME!" which means that's the way you got to eat it! Later that night I had written in my notebook: "Españoles sí comen salsa picante! Todos somos capaces!" And so, we've adapted this saying "hay que sufrir para disfrutar" (you gotta suffer to enjoy it!) and it applies to eating blood sausage and hot sauce and many, many, many other situations. Haaaaaha
So that's what 23 looks like...
Tomorrow is Cammy's and my birthday. I brought American cupcakes into my colleagues, they were blown away, obsessed. Here's something I love about Spanish women in serious contrast to the world I grew up in: These ladies live in a country where the most DELICIOUS, varied, sugary and fatty baked goods are baked and devoured on the daily. There is no shame, they don't think twice about eating dessert, taking the largest slice or having seconds. And above all, obesity is NOT a problem here. The women are gorgeous, and probably more because there are less preoccupations about weight and more enjoyment of all the amazing delicatessens. Probably helps that drive-thru fast food restaurants don't exist and the closest McDonalds is an hour away from Calatayud, but I'm speaking for Spain in general. Spain 1 - USA 0 (And they eat pork, fried shit and bread for every meal) Health! Just another wonder of the way the world works...
Lastly, I'd like to pick up kite-boarding, and never leave the beach:
Spain is having a hard time getting things right lately. 2nd to worst economy in Europe and, without a care in the environmental world, burns numerous plastic and rubber structures every year. Despite that, Spain's encanto will never diminish. It's all about tradition, anyways.
Later that month, arrived one of the best vacation weeks in the whole year. Spring break, baby. Sara and I decided to stay local and head south to Seville and Cadiz. Seville is known for it's elaborate and most well known Holy Week festival compared to all other cities in Spain. We didn't know that. Pre-departure, the only response we received was the Spanish hand gesture for "LOTS OF PEOPLE." True that, these Aragoneses know what they're talking about. It was an intense transition from pueblo life in Aragon to major big city with it's biggest festival going down. We handled it well though, because it was almost a 20 degree temperature increase and there was not a shortage of marvels to...marvel at. Though I admittedly haven't done my research on KKK garb, it just makes sense that the style was stolen from an ÜBER religious and sacred celebration of Holy Week in the Catholic world. This was not a familiar sight for me. Imagine, hundreds and thousands of people in "KKK dress" (if you will) parading the streets, dragging black crosses, holding the body of Jesus Cristo or the mourning Mother Mary. Objectivity is practically flowing through my Anthropological blood, but I can't pretend that the faceless bodies in white, black, green, purple (especially the one's in the middle of the night walking with 4 foot high burning candles) didn't make me feel weird... at first. Day one, I was hiding behind the old people in wheel chairs as little children approached this figures, pulling at their coattails, asking for
Ladies in black lace on Holy Thursday.
Making friends, peace. Trying to anyways
The man.
Where the important people sit for the holy processions.
Plaza España in Seville.
Cádiz.
The BCN troop, more or less.
If you want to join my Barcelona tours, they include minimum of a whole afternoon in the park climbing trees.
We spent a beautiful Sunday afternoon in a nearby meadow. Shooting bows and arrows, playing frisbee, climbing on rocks and throwing our bodies around in the sun.
My girl Kendicita came and spent 3 or so weeks with me in my beloved Calatayud. My friends here embraced her, she fell in love with Spain de nuevo and we had the most blessed days together. She is tied for the most beautiful people on this earth.
Óscar's family owns the Jiu-Jitsu gym in Calatayud. His father invited us to come "play" and try it out. Turns out, most of the students are MY students at the highschool, black belts and badasses. I think I was expecting it to be more like Karate, do a little warm up stretching, etc etc.. First thing we have to do.. drop down on the ground and army crawl across the mats. After that, try and wrestle my students to the ground. They were patient and they definitely could've dominated me worse, but I like to think I put up a real fight. Nails!!!
With Óscar and my students. The blonde is the champion of Aragón. Cool life?!
Emily's colleague took us to have a photo shoot dressed in the traditional costumes worn for the festival of Alfonsadas in Calatayud which takes place the beginning of June. It's like a medieval festival, with plays and parades and of course, serious fiesta time. I may or may not be here, but either way, do you think my red vans go well with my Arab cape? (Sara is dressed like La Dolores, who is the famous prostitute of Calatayud, the reason why all of Spain knows of my pueblo)
A weekend mini-vacay to Fuerteventura of the Canary Islands. Did you know that they are Spanish territory but right off the western coast of northern Africa? Anyways, these are true desert islands complete with cabras salvajes (savage goats o sea, wild goats), sand dunes and camels. Chulísimo no? Personally, me da igual, the water was gorgeous, I'm a little morenita and yeah, the beach and sun heals all.
So blessed, and I don't even feel bad about it. HERE'S TO DOING WHAT YOU WANT WITH YOUR LIFE!
These are my little cutie students, private English lessons. From the left they are: Mar, Cristina and Sandra. We were practicing the present continuous in the form of 'going to + infinitive' and the objective was to tell each others' fortunes. Of course, for my enjoyment, I made them wrap their heads in sparkly scarves and rub an invisible glass sphere for a more realistic feel. Of course they loved it, they are 11 year old chiquitinas!
We try to do a weekly dinner with our friends as we only have a few weeks left and we're trying to aprovechar todo. Anyways, as promised to them, we had Mexican night, as you can see by the plate in the foreground, complete with guac, black beans, fajitas and SALSA PICANTE!!! Well, if you thought Spanish food was super exotic, that's false. It's good, really good,, but it lacks variety. You can go to ANY cafetería in any town/city across Spain and you will find the same exact menu as anywhere else. I actually like the idea in that it's about simplicity, straight alimentación instead of every restaurant in America that has to come up with THE most unique dish (though that is really fun as a consumer). Either way, spicy food absolutely does not exist here. Except for 'mojo' (pronounced moho but with a really strong back of the through hhhhhhh) which actually, comes from the Canary Islands. Anyways, on the (my) spice barometer, it's barely gets a 2. So with the surplus of Cholula, Tapatío and other chili sauces we've been gifted by our amazing families (shout out!!) in the States, my Spanish friends made me SUPER proud by not only trying them, indulging in the spice without glasses of milk to get them through it. Jorge, the bravest of them all totally dug the Tapatío though I don't know what happened in his stomach. I mean to put it into
Well now I'm just excited I have someone to gift what remains of my
So that's what 23 looks like...
Tomorrow is Cammy's and my birthday. I brought American cupcakes into my colleagues, they were blown away, obsessed. Here's something I love about Spanish women in serious contrast to the world I grew up in: These ladies live in a country where the most DELICIOUS, varied, sugary and fatty baked goods are baked and devoured on the daily. There is no shame, they don't think twice about eating dessert, taking the largest slice or having seconds. And above all, obesity is NOT a problem here. The women are gorgeous, and probably more because there are less preoccupations about weight and more enjoyment of all the amazing delicatessens. Probably helps that drive-thru fast food restaurants don't exist and the closest McDonalds is an hour away from Calatayud, but I'm speaking for Spain in general. Spain 1 - USA 0 (And they eat pork, fried shit and bread for every meal) Health! Just another wonder of the way the world works...
Lastly, I'd like to pick up kite-boarding, and never leave the beach:
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