Pensamientos de una Madrileña

Much has happened since my last post. Rather than take you step by step through what I have been doing for the past couple of weeks, I'm just going to highlight a few things. Ojalá que os gusta.

Julie and Cassandra
A couple of weeks ago, unas gemelas francesas named Julie and Cassandra came to stay with us for a few days. I have never heard Spanish spoken with a French accent, so trying to communicate with them was a bit interesting. Actually, they were fluent in Spanish, Portuguese, French, and English. One of them made fun of me because she could apparently hear me speaking lots of English in my room (not that I spend my afternoons Skyping or watching True Blood). These girls were probably the most goal oriented teenagers that I have ever met: one of them wants to be an environmental scientist and the other is like a professional gymnast who is going to be a doctor... or something. In any case, they left me questioning my abilities with Spanish and with life in general.

Segovia
Three weekends ago, my program took us on a group trip to Segovia, España. I really didn't know much about the city prior to the visit so I didn't have very high expectations, which ended up working in my favor since it rained the whole time. And I had to buy the ugliest umbrella on Earth, which promptly broke just after I bought it. ¿Fenomenal, no? The aqueduct, Segvoia's main attraction, was beautiful and, yes, there were some beautiful buildings to visit. We saw a famous castle, El Alcázar (complete with suits of armor), that Walt Disney apparently used as a base for his design of the Disney Castle. I spent the day hyped up on caffeine trying to entertain myself by goofing around rather than listening to Ricardo blabber (you'll find out more about him in a minute). But let me tell you why I wished I would have been in Barcelona instead of Segovia. For those of you who don't know, three of my best girlfriends from home are also studying abroad in Europe this semester: Blair (Roma), Bri (Roma), and Lauren (Barca). The three of them decided to meet up in Barcelona that very weekend (read: more fun than a barrel of monkeys), but I had already paid for this day trip to Segovia so I opted out of their rendezvous. Huge mistake on my part, but you live and learn I guess.

It is pretty amazing that they had to carve each stone by hand.

Preciosa

Catedrál de Santa María

♥

Umbrella Tent and Frizzy Hair
From the Bottom going Clockwise:
Lauren .  Maria .  Mooney . Vanessa . Me

El Alcázar

Chicken Hotdogs
I don't consider myself a picky eater, it's more that I'm particular about the food that I ingest. And what I eat depends more on what I think of the food rather than how it actually tastes. (It's not that I don't want to eat hamburgers, it's that I can't. I have a mental block about chewing animal meat. So sue me.) When I came to Spain, I explained to Julia my aversion to brussels sprouts and food that used to walk on four legs. But after a few weeks of delicious paella and other Spanish food, Julia started serving me these weird meat patties and hotdogs, which she assured me were made with "chicken." At first, I kind of believed her. One of the times I even ate half of a hotdog (it's considered extremely rude in Spain to leave food on your plate), but I quickly concluded that it was definitely not chicken. I used to eat hotdogs when I was little so I know what they taste like, and this chicken hotdog tasted exactly like pork. It was pork, for sure. Disgusting! I just don't have the stomach for that kind of food so I decided that from then on, I would cut up the hotdogs (or patties, or whatever food I couldn't eat) into tiny pieces and throw them in the garbage. It worked for a while, but Julia is no ordinary old lady. She caught on in no time, and insisted again that the hotdogs were made with chicken. My rebuttal? "No es pollo. Es cerdo, y no me lo gusta." Her rebuttal? She got the pack of hotdogs out of the fridge, and showed me the label... chicken?! Seriously. They really were hotdogs made with chicken. But why eat chicken if it has the shape, taste, and texture of a hotdog anyway? It's just not my thing. Sorry, I'm not sorry.

Sevilla
Traveling around Spain is fairly easy and reasonably cheap. All you have to do is buy a bus ticket, book a hostel for a night or two, and you're golden. Let's talk for a minute about the busses here. When you buy a bus ticket to go to another city, you're reserving a seat on a coach-type bus that's fairly comfortable and usually plays movies. However, the rides themselves are madness (think Knight Bus). I wish I could keep my eyes open because driving through Spain is absolutely breathtaking, but I have to sleep to keep from vomiting or having a panic attack. The roads are super narrow, and when we're up in the mountains on winding roads it's terrifying. I sit there trying to convince myself that the center of gravity is low enough that the busses won't (can't?) tip over, but it honestly amazes me that they don't.

On the six-hour bus ride to Sevilla, my friends and I were lucky enough to encounter the worst smelling human on Earth. Sitting where? You guessed it! Right behind me. I can't begin to describe the stench that wafted from this man. I wouldn't even classify it as body odor because this smell truly deserved its own category. Absolutely repulsive. Like rotting eggs or a dead body. Or rotting eggs and a dead body. I might start crying if I keep thinking about it, so let's move on.

The trip was great, to say the least. We took a carriage ride through the entire city (tourist much?) but it was so precious, and we had so much fun (except for our creepy driver who didn't realize that we could understand Español). It was probably about 75 degrees - perfect weather for traipsing around a new place. That's really my favorite thing to do here, to wander around a new city with my friends, discovering its secrets. You never known what you might find. It's exhilarating.

Our hostel was adorable, and had a rooftop terrace with tables and chairs. We went up there one evening to hang out and ended up meeting a group of French boys who were on holiday. They were very friendly and seemed really nice, so we went out dancing with them later that night. It was a really good time, definitely worth the while, but my feet were killing me by the end of the night...

Bonita

¿Hay un Secreto Aquí?

El Palacio

La Catedrál

Un Edificio Muy Importante

Carriage Ride
Me & Lamia

Carriage Ride
Hannah . Hanna . Ryan

Sevilla is Ripe with Orange Trees

Ricardo
Let me tell you a little bit about Ricardo. Es un Español who lives here in Madrid and works for Reunidas (our exchange program) teaching courses to foreign students (us). He chain smokes cigarettes, and he's probably the smartest man in the world. Well maybe not the smartest, but he sure does know more about Spain than anyone I've ever met. When we take group trips (or sometimes just walking tours around Madrid), he comes with as our tour guide. He's super nice and friendly, and I'm sure he has many other notable personal qualities. But I can only take so much Spanish history before I start to lose my marbles. I mean I can't even listen to him for more than 30 minutes without my eyes crossing. To make the time pass, I sometimes sneak pictures of him without him knowing.

In the past, this was used to lift big rocks.
Nowadays, it is used to tweeze Molly Stanfa's eyebrows.

Equipo de Baloncesto Español
A couple of weeks ago, we were sitting in Plaza Mayor eating some ice cream (which is all too quickly becoming a habitual thing), when Lamia ran into a friend from high school. Small world. She didn't know he was abroad, so she was completely taken by surprise to see him. His name is Kevin, and he has been studying here for the whole school year. He's such a nice guy. After talking to him for a while, we found out that he plays on a basketball team here in Madrid. Chachi qué sí - finally we had a way to make some amigos españoles. We've met up with them now a couple of times, and for the most part they are really fun and really nice. I'll leave it at that.

Valencia
This past weekend we went to Valencia as a group (which meant more Ricardo, but he toned it down a bit). It was beautiful (shocker). Mostly every important city in España has the following key elements: A Cathedral, A Tower, A Museum, A Palace, and sometimes something Extra. In Valencia, we did it all. And the weather was perfect so we got to spend some time at the beach, which was really nice.

"Colleen, what was your favorite thing about Valencia? Seeing the Mediterranean Sea? Going to the Cathedral? Was it the shopping?" "None of the above. Lo mejor en Valencia fue el helado de sabor violeta."

Violet ice cream. It happened, and it changed my life. Now, I've had some good ice cream in my life. Back home, I work at an ice cream and chocolate shop, and that's nothing to sneeze at because we have the highest quality sweets you can imagine. But I have never had violet ice cream before - man oh man, it was delicious. And it was purple.

España

Inside the Cathedral

Apparently this is a real arm, but I don't know if I believe it.

Peek A Boo

On Top of a Tower

Weird

Museum or Darth Vader?

"All the cool kids."

The Most Important Thing

It's been a while since I've written about Whitey. He's still here, alive and kicking (so to speak). I don't bring him with me on any of my trips because I'm too afraid that I'll lost him or that he'll get a bed bug. So what does Whitey do while I'm gone, you ask? Well he sleeps a lot, but sometimes he likes to surf the net. If he's really hyper he'll jump on the bed or play with Blackey (my other dog). It really depends on the day. He's always waiting, though, for me to come back. I know he gets lonely sometimes, but he leads a charmed life, really.

♥♥

Perdí Mi Piedra

Something about me that you should understand: I have a very strong sense of adventure. I think it started when I was little. I was influenced by the TV shows that I watched where the characters would find secret passageways or stumble across magic doorways - stuff like that. I was always on the lookout for a clue that would lead me to some secret, magical place, so I liked to explore. I still do, and I really like being outside and seeing new things (which can be difficult because I really hate bugs and dirt). So since I arrived in Spain, I have had this urge to climb a mountain. Not a snow capped mountain, but one of those hills that's so big that it isn't quite a hill but doesn't really qualify as a mountain. You'll see what I mean.

I haven't posted in a while because I was waiting until I really had something worthwhile to write about. And now I finally do: Granada was the most amazing, beautiful, wonderful place that I have ever seen. Let's start from the very beginning.

We planned our trip to Granada a couple of weeks ago. Everything was all set. But the night before we were supposed to leave, I got an e-mail from our hostel saying that they had overbooked but would help us look for a new one. This guy named Nick who worked at the front desk helped us out and found us a place that was comparable in price. It was just somewhere to sleep anyways, so what did it matter?

We left Madrid (en autobús) at 1:30 a.m. on Saturday, figuring that we could sleep on the five hour bus ride rather than pay for a room. I was seated next to a young español, maybe 26 years old. He was jittery and smelled like cigarettes. Qué guay. He kept squirming around patting his pockets and kept checking his bag for something. Eventually, he told me that he couldn't find his cell phone and asked nicely if I wouldn't mind calling it for him. Of course I obliged, but to no avail. We couldn't find it. So now this guy was convinced that his phone was really gone, and his anxiety was preventing me from falling asleep. I was about ready to reach over and give him a neck rub if it would have helped him settle down.

Eventually, I was able to get some shut eye for a couple of hours until the bus stopped at a rest area. I got out to stretch my legs and returned to find that jitterbug was missing from his seat. What I also found was his cell phone, ringing, wedged between his chair and the window. Hooray. Is it impolite to answer someone else's cell phone? I wasn't sure, so I grabbed it and went looking for him. What an angel I am. I found him and returned his cell, then went back to the bus to sleep (only to be awoken ten minutes later when he returned, reeking of cigarette smoke). Did you know that one in four Spaniards smoke? Apparently all the cool kids are doing it. Nasty.

We arrived in Granada at 6:30 in the morning and headed straight for our hostel. Let me tell you something - whoever was in charge of city planning back when Granada was being built must have had some serious issues. I mean the city itself isn't that big, but the roads have no logical pattern and are a total pain to navigate. Not important, though. So after about twenty minutes, we arrived at our hostel (with the help of a friendly garbage man). This would have been great, except the place wasn't open: Lights off, doors chained, and not a soul in sight. I didn't even have the phone number because Nick set everything up for us. Oops.

We decided to bring our luggage with us to La Alhambra, and arrived just in time to make our 8:30 entrance. For those of you who don't know, La Alhambra is a really famous monastery (I think) in Spain. I've been learning about it for the past few semesters, but somehow the details about it aren't coming to mind at the moment. In any case, it's an enormous building with beautiful Arabic architecture. Being the main attraction in Granada, we were really excited to see it.

Courtyard

Muy Preciosa, ¿No?

Hay muchas palmeras en España.

Aladdin?

I think I would have enjoyed my visit a lot more if it hadn't been so cold (I use the word loosely, it was probably in the 40s). It's really difficult to deal with the weather here because everywhere we go would be "so much better" if it were summer. But since we went so early (people in Spain don't typically wake up until 10 or so), it wasn't very crowded so I was able to get most of my pictures without mobs of people in the foreground.

I'm astounded that people actually built these places hundreds of years ago. The sheer size of it all, along with the gorgeous architectural detailing, is enough to make your jaw drop. It just boggles my mind that people were able to construct such masterpieces with little more than ropes and pulleys. That being said, the buildings seem to be set up so that you can look outside at everything around them. Of course the Alhambra had its courtyards and gardens, but being on the inside really lent itself to looking outward at the amazing view.

Right next to El Alhambra lies the Generalife (which I have also learned about extensively, but why bore you with the facts?).

View From El Alhambra

Doesn't this look like a painting rather than a window?

Generalife

Afterwards we went back to our hostel to take a siesta. The place was really nice: we were set up in a 6-bed apartment, complete with a kitchenette and a private bathroom. We had intended to go to a flamenco show that evening but instead opted to wander the streets of Granada to look for something more low-key. We met a guy named David, who introduced us to his friends and showed us around. He was really nice and eager to talk with us, which is kind of a rarity. The thing is that Spaniards (like most other Europeans) don't particularly like Americans, especially Americans who don't speak Spanish fluently. When we do meet someone who has the patience to converse with us, it's like Christmas morning (especially if that someone happens to be tall, dark, and handsome).

Stereotype much?

View From Our Hostel

Sunday was much warmer, and we decided to wander aimlessly (más o menos) around the city rather than try to get to every monument or tourist attraction in Granada. I feel a little guilty because there were lots of things that we probably should have seen that we didn't. But wandering around was so much fun, so I don't feel that bad. David had told us that if we really wanted to appreciate our stay, we had to go through a neighborhood called El Albayzín. Its built on the side of the mountain that we wanted to climb, and it was so precious - exactly what you would expect a small town in Spain to look like. There were crowded little houses on winding streets, a little difficult to navigate but absolutely gorgeous. So as we're walking we randomly happened upon the hostel where we were supposed be. It was adorable and had the most amazing view. I'm so bummed we didn't get to stay there, but we ended up going inside and meeting Nick and this man named Jamie from Australia, who were super friendly and nice (they even invited us to come back later in the Spring, which I'm definitely doing to do). I was asking Jamie about why he came to Spain (he has lived here now for ten years) and his thoughtful response was, "Well. I figured I might like Spain. So I came here to live, and I liked it." Spoken like a true español.

♥

Abandonado 

Walking through El Albayzín brought us pretty far up the mountain, but we eventually found ourselves walking on dirt paths leading to the top. It was so perfect. As we were walking, we noticed that there were bits of ceramic mixed in with the rocks along the paths, so some of us started picking up the pretty ones. That's when I found my best souvenier yet- a broken piece of stone with "ESPAÑA 89" engraved into it. You can't buy stuff like that in stores. It was seriously so cool...

(pause for dramatic effect)

...but I lost it. Yeah. Somewhere along the hike I managed to drop it, and no matter how hard I looked I couldn't find it again. I concluded that it must have been an unlucky rock, or had a curse, or some other explanation as to why I'm better off without it. ¿Estáis de acuerdo?

At this point, I was totally satisfied with how the day had been going (aside from the rock thing), but it actually got better because we found some gypsies. Yes - living, breathing gypsy hippies residing in the caves on the mountain. I couldn't believe it! We talked to a couple of them and they seemed happy as clams to be away from civilization. Honestly, it didn't seem like a bad set up. They wake up in the morning, watch the sun rise, relax and play music until the sun goes down. Who needs running water when you're living on a mountain in Spain?

Photo Credit: Lauren Acree

Gypsy House

Gypsy Meditating

Far Away

Up Close

On Top of the World

Two more things I feel I need to mention:
1. Music: While in Granada, we heard Shania Twain's "Man I Feel Like a Woman" played not once but twice. It really took me back to third grade. Happy times.
2. Graffiti: I said in a previous post that the graffiti here doesn't bother me because it seems like it's supposed to be there. Well in Granada, I wouldn't even call it graffiti - it's more like street art. I think I like it so much because it really has meaning, and the anonymity makes it even more intriguing. Mona who? This is real art, if you ask me.

Houses without people. People without homes.  Streets that talk.

Friends for Life

Los españoles me hablan. Estoy segura que que un día, viviré en Granada.