I didn't expect leaving Sevilla to be difficult. But it was. I was literally crying as I said goodbye to my host family. They really have treated me as a member of their family, and are very loving people. I'm definitely going to miss them.
On the drive home, I couldn't help but compare everything to Sevilla (well, Europe in general). Everything just seems much more beautiful over there. For me, that's saying a lot, especially since I've always thought Seattle is a beautiful city. I looked at the skyscrapers and, for once, thought they looked quite ugly. I looked at the Fremont bridge and thought it was nothing compared to the bridge in Triana. I looked at the houses on Queen Anne and thought they were nothing like the view of Lisbon. But it's not just the buildings and scenery that strike me the most; everything seems livelier in Europe.
If there's one thing I've come to appreciate, it's the perspective that the Spaniards have about work. No, the Spaniards are not lazy because they take siestas. Spaniards work only to live. Americans, on the other hand, live only to work. It seems like the Spaniards are happier and carefree, because what's most important isn't their careers, but their friends and family. They really do seem to be enjoying life more. That's the complete opposite of what I'm used to: I study and work so hard in attempt to get grades, but it drains me and the results aren't always satisfying. In a way, study abroad has changed my perspective in terms of my academic career.
I'm not completely sure how I feel about being at home. I've been in a bit of a melancholic state. I'm going to miss hearing Spanish all the time. I've also come to be bothered by certain American accents (especially the Valley girl one), which I obviously can't avoid here. I've gotten used to thinking more in Spanish, but I'm afraid I'll lose what I've acquired in Spain.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
Near the end
I apologize for not having updated earlier. I've been busy studying for exams which, thank goodness, have recently ended. I have a week left before I leave, and it just seems so soon. It always amazes how quickly time flies. Some of my friends have been dying to go back, due to some bad experiences here (which I can relate to), but I know I won't want to leave when the time comes.
I still remember when I arrived here, and how uncomfortable I was with my spoken Spanish. Sure, I've taken years of Spanish, but I've never had a chance to practice it, nor did I know what a Spanish accent from Spain sounded like (other than the lisp thing). I would like to say my Spanish has gotten better, but I can't hide my American accent. At the least I can say that my vocabulary has expanded, and I speak with a bit more fluidity.
Integrating into the culture has been interesting, to say the least. The andaluces are known to be warm and welcoming, but it's not always the case when you're minority. Some of my friends here have been scarred by the racist treatment they've gotten here, either through comments, staring, and even stalking. Because of this, a lot of them have a very negative image of Sevilla, and they complain about it all the time. But I don't think being a racial minority is exactly the reason for the treatment; I think anyone who's different (including Americans and other Europeans) can be a victim of attack.
I have had a handful of racist and ignorant comments thrown at me too. For one thing, sometimes when I walk down the street, some guys will try to get my attention by greeting me with “chinita” or “ni hao ma” or “konnichawa.” One time some guy on a bike purposely turned around just to greet me with “konnichwa.” You could say that they're just trying to be friendly, but it's definitely not friendly when they do to mock me or “my people.” Another time some guys greeted me with “hola,” but I didn't respond, so they spoke in some made-up Chinese-sounding-like language to try to talk to me. Sometimes at night I walk quicker and try to hide my face just so that people won't hassle me.
Sometimes when I enter or exit the apartment building, I feel that the neighbors are surprised to see that an Asian is living among near them. There are Chinese people in Sevilla, though most of them do the same thing: restaurants or little bazaars. But I swear, every time I enter one of the Chinese shops, there's always a customer who asks me, “¿Cuánto vale?” (How much does it cost?) When I tell them that I don't work there, they just give me a blank stare before they get it. I wasn't really offended, but it definitely goes to show the stereotypes that people have here. There are also some Chinese restaurants here, but the majority lack customers. My host dad tells me that he doesn't trust the Chinese restaurants, because he thinks that they don't generate enough trash; that is, he thinks that they reuse the food that has been previously served. I don't know where he gets this idea from, but it seems that the pride that the sevillanos have goes hand-in-hand with some xenophobia.
The reason why I don't hate Sevilla, nor am I dying to go home to my “land of diversity,” is because I am genuinely interested in the culture, largely because of flamenco. (But speaking of stereotypes, because the Japanese are probably the biggest fans of flamenco, usually there are usually handful of them at the flamenco studios, so people usually assume that I'm also Japanese.) I think you can earn a lot of respect and friendliness by showing interest in the culture. You just have to be open-minded. Take the Feria for instance. It's known as a festival that only the sevillanos understand. Most people from my program just decided to travel instead. Some of my friends who stuck around thought it was amusing that the sevillanos got so excited about the Alumbrado (the lighting of the entrance gate) of the Feria. The lights weren't that big nor that spectacular, especially compared to what you see in Las Vegas or Times Square. But the Alumbrado isn't important because of what you see, but because of what it symbolizes – that is, the opening of the Feria. I went to the Feria for three days straight, extremely self-conscious of myself in my traje de flamenca, since I'm clearly not sevillana. Some people did stare at me, but I also had a lot of fun experiences, since I was willing to put myself out there.
Another cultural conflict stems from the fact that most Spaniards like to talk a lot. That especially includes my host family. I'm usually quiet, and I hate forcing myself to make conversation. I do try to talk during the lunch with the family, but sometimes I really have nothing to say. (Thank God that Andrea keeps the conversation going!). The silence can feel awkward. One time my host dad called me out during lunch, by saying that I was quiet (at the moment), and I responded by saying that I normally am quiet. I guess it's hard for him to understand. I do miss being with the people who know me and accept me for the way I am.
I don't want to leave, especially since I hate saying goodbye, and I might never see some people again. Study abroad was an escape for me... from what, I can't actually explain. Still, I can't really call it an escape. I basically abandoned one life of routines, and picked up another. The passage of time has also been daunting. It feels like time back home has stopped, while my life here has been in a different dimension. Of course, time hasn't stopped, and I know I will disoriented when I go back home and to school. I haven't come to terms that I'm now a senior.
I'm not really sure how to conclude this. It's been an interesting experience, but a good one overall. I think I will come back to the Sevilla in the future, though I know it won't be the same.
I will leave you with a video of my flamenco teacher, Rafael Campallo:
I still remember when I arrived here, and how uncomfortable I was with my spoken Spanish. Sure, I've taken years of Spanish, but I've never had a chance to practice it, nor did I know what a Spanish accent from Spain sounded like (other than the lisp thing). I would like to say my Spanish has gotten better, but I can't hide my American accent. At the least I can say that my vocabulary has expanded, and I speak with a bit more fluidity.
Integrating into the culture has been interesting, to say the least. The andaluces are known to be warm and welcoming, but it's not always the case when you're minority. Some of my friends here have been scarred by the racist treatment they've gotten here, either through comments, staring, and even stalking. Because of this, a lot of them have a very negative image of Sevilla, and they complain about it all the time. But I don't think being a racial minority is exactly the reason for the treatment; I think anyone who's different (including Americans and other Europeans) can be a victim of attack.
I have had a handful of racist and ignorant comments thrown at me too. For one thing, sometimes when I walk down the street, some guys will try to get my attention by greeting me with “chinita” or “ni hao ma” or “konnichawa.” One time some guy on a bike purposely turned around just to greet me with “konnichwa.” You could say that they're just trying to be friendly, but it's definitely not friendly when they do to mock me or “my people.” Another time some guys greeted me with “hola,” but I didn't respond, so they spoke in some made-up Chinese-sounding-like language to try to talk to me. Sometimes at night I walk quicker and try to hide my face just so that people won't hassle me.
Sometimes when I enter or exit the apartment building, I feel that the neighbors are surprised to see that an Asian is living among near them. There are Chinese people in Sevilla, though most of them do the same thing: restaurants or little bazaars. But I swear, every time I enter one of the Chinese shops, there's always a customer who asks me, “¿Cuánto vale?” (How much does it cost?) When I tell them that I don't work there, they just give me a blank stare before they get it. I wasn't really offended, but it definitely goes to show the stereotypes that people have here. There are also some Chinese restaurants here, but the majority lack customers. My host dad tells me that he doesn't trust the Chinese restaurants, because he thinks that they don't generate enough trash; that is, he thinks that they reuse the food that has been previously served. I don't know where he gets this idea from, but it seems that the pride that the sevillanos have goes hand-in-hand with some xenophobia.
The reason why I don't hate Sevilla, nor am I dying to go home to my “land of diversity,” is because I am genuinely interested in the culture, largely because of flamenco. (But speaking of stereotypes, because the Japanese are probably the biggest fans of flamenco, usually there are usually handful of them at the flamenco studios, so people usually assume that I'm also Japanese.) I think you can earn a lot of respect and friendliness by showing interest in the culture. You just have to be open-minded. Take the Feria for instance. It's known as a festival that only the sevillanos understand. Most people from my program just decided to travel instead. Some of my friends who stuck around thought it was amusing that the sevillanos got so excited about the Alumbrado (the lighting of the entrance gate) of the Feria. The lights weren't that big nor that spectacular, especially compared to what you see in Las Vegas or Times Square. But the Alumbrado isn't important because of what you see, but because of what it symbolizes – that is, the opening of the Feria. I went to the Feria for three days straight, extremely self-conscious of myself in my traje de flamenca, since I'm clearly not sevillana. Some people did stare at me, but I also had a lot of fun experiences, since I was willing to put myself out there.
Another cultural conflict stems from the fact that most Spaniards like to talk a lot. That especially includes my host family. I'm usually quiet, and I hate forcing myself to make conversation. I do try to talk during the lunch with the family, but sometimes I really have nothing to say. (Thank God that Andrea keeps the conversation going!). The silence can feel awkward. One time my host dad called me out during lunch, by saying that I was quiet (at the moment), and I responded by saying that I normally am quiet. I guess it's hard for him to understand. I do miss being with the people who know me and accept me for the way I am.
I don't want to leave, especially since I hate saying goodbye, and I might never see some people again. Study abroad was an escape for me... from what, I can't actually explain. Still, I can't really call it an escape. I basically abandoned one life of routines, and picked up another. The passage of time has also been daunting. It feels like time back home has stopped, while my life here has been in a different dimension. Of course, time hasn't stopped, and I know I will disoriented when I go back home and to school. I haven't come to terms that I'm now a senior.
I'm not really sure how to conclude this. It's been an interesting experience, but a good one overall. I think I will come back to the Sevilla in the future, though I know it won't be the same.
I will leave you with a video of my flamenco teacher, Rafael Campallo:
Wednesday, May 6, 2009
Las Cruces de Mayo
Andrea has a friend named Angel who lives in Lebrija, a pueblo outside of Sevilla. They have their own festival called Las Cruces de Mayo, so we decided to check it out. Lebrija is definitely smaller and quieter than Sevilla, but it has it's own charm. Angel's house was quaint too. His family has a patio, where we danced some sevillanas and ate our dinner. Angel's second cousin, Isabel, and his friend, Consol, also came by. They happen to study English, so we spoke in a mix of English and Spanish. They also taught us some useful expressions, such as “Los pilotos se han encendido” (aka “you're nipping”).
During the festival, the lebrijanos dance the Sevillanas in little patios. It's similar to the casetas in the Feria, but everything's outside and has a very folkoric feel. One person after another sings the sevillanas. Angel's and Isabel brought their own instruments with them. One of the instruments was a caña, which is a large wooden stick which you hit between your thumb and index finger. The other instrument was an almirez, which is basically a mortar, and you use the pestal to hit it. It sounds like a bell. I've gotten better at playing these instruments, but I just clapped along most of the time.
The cruces (the crosses, but basically refers to the sites of the festivities) are beautifully decorated with flowers and religious images. The lebrijanos have their own verison of the sevillanas (called the sevillanas corraleras). The music is slightly faster and the dance has a slight bounce to it.
At the first cruz, I danced quite a few times, especially with Andrea:
(Notice the bouncy couple in the back)
It's not easy to hear when the music starts, since the singing isn't very clear and not every instrument joins in at the same time. At one point, some guy asked me to dance, which was fun. The next cruz was almost empty, and one of the men was literally begging us to stay, have a few drinks, and dance a bit. After I danced, some guy yells, how is it possible that “la china” (the Chinese girl – aka me) dances the sevillanas like a sevillana? There was kind of an awkward silence, and everyone was staring at me. I just shrugged my shoulders and waited for the music to start again. Then someone starts singing a sevillana about the “la china,” and I wasn't sure to take it as a joke or be offended. The last cruz we went to was filled with a ton of people. It was difficult to dance on the patio. At this point, it was about 4 o'clock in the morning so people were already drunk. Somehow I got passed from one random person to another to dance the sevillanas, and before I knew it, they wanted to take pictures with me.
I guess whenever I feel crappy about my dancing, I should just head to some random pueblo and dance the sevillanas.
During the festival, the lebrijanos dance the Sevillanas in little patios. It's similar to the casetas in the Feria, but everything's outside and has a very folkoric feel. One person after another sings the sevillanas. Angel's and Isabel brought their own instruments with them. One of the instruments was a caña, which is a large wooden stick which you hit between your thumb and index finger. The other instrument was an almirez, which is basically a mortar, and you use the pestal to hit it. It sounds like a bell. I've gotten better at playing these instruments, but I just clapped along most of the time.
The cruces (the crosses, but basically refers to the sites of the festivities) are beautifully decorated with flowers and religious images. The lebrijanos have their own verison of the sevillanas (called the sevillanas corraleras). The music is slightly faster and the dance has a slight bounce to it.
At the first cruz, I danced quite a few times, especially with Andrea:
It's not easy to hear when the music starts, since the singing isn't very clear and not every instrument joins in at the same time. At one point, some guy asked me to dance, which was fun. The next cruz was almost empty, and one of the men was literally begging us to stay, have a few drinks, and dance a bit. After I danced, some guy yells, how is it possible that “la china” (the Chinese girl – aka me) dances the sevillanas like a sevillana? There was kind of an awkward silence, and everyone was staring at me. I just shrugged my shoulders and waited for the music to start again. Then someone starts singing a sevillana about the “la china,” and I wasn't sure to take it as a joke or be offended. The last cruz we went to was filled with a ton of people. It was difficult to dance on the patio. At this point, it was about 4 o'clock in the morning so people were already drunk. Somehow I got passed from one random person to another to dance the sevillanas, and before I knew it, they wanted to take pictures with me.
I guess whenever I feel crappy about my dancing, I should just head to some random pueblo and dance the sevillanas.
Monday, May 4, 2009
La Feria
Just wanted to greet you all "in person" :)
(Excuse my awkwardness)
The Feria (this year, from April 28th to May 3rd) is a basically a week of festivities for the sevillanos. The women dress up like gitanas (gypsies) and people move around in horse-drawn carriages (or mount the horses themselves). It's a spectacular explosion of color. In the fair grounds, many casetas (tents) are set up, where the people eat, drink, and dance the sevillanas. Many of the casetas are private, so you would have to know someone to get in. Luckily, Andrea and I know are friends with some sevillanos, so we managed to get in to some casetas.
Here's a quick tour of the fairgrounds:
(Excuse my fast panning)
The rebujito (a mix of alcohol with Sprite) is a popular drink during the Feria. Apparently, it's very refreshing, so it's easy to consume a lot without even realizing it. But given my extremely low alcohol tolerance, it only took me two cups to start feeling the effects. The heat rose up to my face, and it got to the point where I couldn't see anything except the color red. It was quite scary actually. I collapsed at one point, and the next thing I knew I'm sitting in a chair, and some lady is telling me to open my legs, as she attempts to stick my head in between my legs. Eventually I regained my vision and the lady told me not to worry, that she'll take care of me. I really appreciated her kindness. After drinking some water, I was on the move again.
As my host father has told us, the Feria is something that's very sevillana, something's that hard for foreigners to understand. But Andrea and I didn't just watch the Feria, we participated in it, especially since we were dressed in our trajes de flamenca. We also know how to dance the sevillanas, which made it more fun. Since it's obvious that I'm not from around here (you know, being Asian and all), a lot of people were confused that I could dance the sevilllanas. Then when they asked me where I learned it, they were even more surprised that I learned the sevillanas in the United States. I'm actually am kind of glad that I do know the sevillanas, because I felt more accepted into the culture.
The Feria (this year, from April 28th to May 3rd) is a basically a week of festivities for the sevillanos. The women dress up like gitanas (gypsies) and people move around in horse-drawn carriages (or mount the horses themselves). It's a spectacular explosion of color. In the fair grounds, many casetas (tents) are set up, where the people eat, drink, and dance the sevillanas. Many of the casetas are private, so you would have to know someone to get in. Luckily, Andrea and I know are friends with some sevillanos, so we managed to get in to some casetas.
Here's a quick tour of the fairgrounds:
The rebujito (a mix of alcohol with Sprite) is a popular drink during the Feria. Apparently, it's very refreshing, so it's easy to consume a lot without even realizing it. But given my extremely low alcohol tolerance, it only took me two cups to start feeling the effects. The heat rose up to my face, and it got to the point where I couldn't see anything except the color red. It was quite scary actually. I collapsed at one point, and the next thing I knew I'm sitting in a chair, and some lady is telling me to open my legs, as she attempts to stick my head in between my legs. Eventually I regained my vision and the lady told me not to worry, that she'll take care of me. I really appreciated her kindness. After drinking some water, I was on the move again.
As my host father has told us, the Feria is something that's very sevillana, something's that hard for foreigners to understand. But Andrea and I didn't just watch the Feria, we participated in it, especially since we were dressed in our trajes de flamenca. We also know how to dance the sevillanas, which made it more fun. Since it's obvious that I'm not from around here (you know, being Asian and all), a lot of people were confused that I could dance the sevilllanas. Then when they asked me where I learned it, they were even more surprised that I learned the sevillanas in the United States. I'm actually am kind of glad that I do know the sevillanas, because I felt more accepted into the culture.
Friday, April 17, 2009
Semana Santa
Semana Santa (Holy Week) this year lasted from Palm Sunday, April 5, to Easter Sunday, April 12. For a week, the hermandades (brotherhoods) in Sevilla parade though the streets, carrying the floats of Jesus Christ and Virgin Mary. After about 6 hours of their procession, they enter the church again. The penitentes are dressed in KKK-like tunics, so it probably seems disturbing, out of context. Some carry candles, some bear crosses on their shoulder. Their identities are supposed to be anonymous, their penitence only known by God. In truth, though, the Semana Santa is more of a cultural tradition, rather than a religious one.
Here are some videos, so you can witness a bit of Semana Santa:
("El Silencio" is one of the oldest and most important hermandades in Sevilla. The entire procession is very serious. Spectators are expected to maintain the silence, but you can hear a saeta in the background, a flamenco-like religious song.)
Here are some videos, so you can witness a bit of Semana Santa:
("El Silencio" is one of the oldest and most important hermandades in Sevilla. The entire procession is very serious. Spectators are expected to maintain the silence, but you can hear a saeta in the background, a flamenco-like religious song.)
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Barcelona
I spent the past weekend in Barcelona. Christine (from IV) was going to be there, so I thought I should meet up with her, even for just one day. My flight was not long (about 1.5 hours), but I had some difficulty with Barcelona's train system. My directions told me to just stay on the train until I got to the Arc de Triomf station, but I think I was actually supposed to change trains at one point. I got off at the Passeig de Gracia station, and then just hailed a taxi. I was supposed to meet up with Christine at 12:15 at the Plaza de Catalunya, and I was afraid that I would arrive late. I turned off my cell phone on the plane, but totally forgot my PIN number, so I couldn't access my cell phone. That meant two things: first, I couldn't call Christine, and second, I had no idea what the time was.
But among the masses in the Plaza de Catalunya, Christine managed to find me. We walked down Las Ramblas, and headed to La Boqueria, a colorful market with meat, fish, and fruits galore. I really enjoyed the atmosphere of Las Ramblas, especially since it's filled with human statues -- and some pretty good ones, I must say. At La Boqueria, I met Christine's friends from London. They were eating paella at a restaurant, but I just sat down and ate my chicken bocadillo that Meli had prepared for me (yay for not having to pay). Afterwards, we took a bus headed to Montjuïc (Mount of the Jews), where the Olympic Stadium is located. We got lost along the way, so I asked someone, in Spanish, how to get to the stadium. He must have thought that I didn't get what he said, or noticed my American accent, because he responded in English.
Before actually exploring the Olympic sites, we visited the museum. It basically gave a history of the Olympics and every sport. The coolest part, though, was getting to watch clips from the past Olympic Games. I watched the women's gymnastics during the 1996 Atlanta games, and it just amazed me how young the girls appeared (when I was younger, they looked so much older). We then entered the stadium, roamed around the general plaza area, and took some pictures. Since we were on top of a hill, we had a pretty good view of the rest of Barcelona.
Christine and her friends had to leave in the evening, so we returned to the downtown area fairly early. Her friends decided to go shopping, but I didn't wanted to be tempted to spend more money. I walked with Christine for a bit and just talked. But alas, I had to say goodbye to her, and I headed off to get some food. I headed to Maoz Falafel, where they give you an empty pita with falafels, and you can fill it up with whatever toppings you want – buffet style. After my filling meal, I decided to just explore the city. I walked up a big street that takes you to the famous Gaudi houses, Casa Batilò and Casa Milà (La Pedrera). I didn't think they looked that impressive, at least during the nighttime. I guess I expected something much bigger, something that didn't suddenly appear among the rows of typical apartment buildings. I kept walking up the street, expecting to somehow reach Parc Guëll, which didn't happen (only later did I realize that Parc Guëll is on top of another high hill). My feet ached, so I gave up and headed back to my hostel.
The next day, I explored the Citadel Park (Parc de la Ciutella), which is a large, lovely park. It's probably the most green space I had seen in all of Barcelona. I also heard some bits of Catalán – but out of context (that is, Barcelona), I'd probably have problems identifying it. I then tried to find the harbor and the beaches, but only found the port for the boats. Next, I explored the Cathedral and roamed around Barri Gòtic (the Gothic Barrio), which is basically the remains of Roman Barcelona. To me, it was a sharp contrast to the modern vision I had of Barcelona. The old Roman quarter was very quaint, filled with little shops and cafés, while colorful laundry, from the apartments above, swayed in the wind.
I read that the Picasso museum gets busy during the early hours, so I decided to kill some time by visiting Casa Batilò and Casa Milà again. Personally, I think these buildings look better during the daylight hours (especially when you can see the colors and intricate details). I only took pictures from the outside, since I didn't feel like paying to go in. I'm much more self-conscious when I'm taking pictures with Moe, so I tried to be as discrete about it as much as possible.
The Picasso museum is free on Sundays (yay!). The line was fairly long, but it moved quickly. The museum mostly features works from Picasso's early career, so it was interesting to see how his works had evolved. I also got to see Picasso's versions of “Las Meninas,” which at first glance, appear to be total distortions of Velazquez's original.
I probably spent about an hour or two at the museum, but without a watch, I really had no idea. I overhead someone saying that it was almost 5 o'clock, so I thought I should visit Parc Guëll. I thought it would especially be nice to see the view of Barcelona at sunset. I hopped on a bus that took me directly to the entrance of the park. The park itself was much bigger than I had expected. It doesn't only consist of the famous circular benches and the lizard fountain; it goes up and out to another hill. I spent a good amount of time exploring the different paths and taking pictures of the scenery. For others, though, it was basically a lover's playground. I kind of wished I could have shared the experience with someone, but I enjoyed my freedom and adventure.
The next day, I visited La Sagrada Familia, a huge church constructed by Gaudi, which has been under works for a while now. It consists of three facades, of the Passion, the Nativity, and the Glory. The Nativity facade was actually completed by Gaudi, and to me, it looks quite different from the Passion one, which was made by someone else. The Nativity facade is a lot more ornate, a lot more breath-taking, but the Passion facade has some interesting symbols (such as a grid of numbers that has over 310 combinations to add up to 33 – the age in which Jesus died). The interior (the Nave) is completely under construction, but you can see that it was designed to imitate a forest. Afterwards, I went to the top, where I had a closer peak at some of the Nativity facade. But I have to admit, I'm quite scared of heights, and I had a feeling that I was going to drop my camera at any point. Luckily, I didn't.
I decided to get a haircut from a Chinese salon, since peluquerias chinas are basically non-existent in Sevilla –- and based on my experience, only Chinese hair dressers have to guts to thin out a lot of hair. It was a bit difficult to communicate with the hair dressers, since I couldn't understand their Spanish (I'm not sure if they're more accustomed to speaking in Spanish or Catalán). They spoke Mandarin, but my Mandarin really isn't that advanced, so that was out of the question. But I basically got what I wanted: lots of hair cut and thinned out.
I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through Las Ramblas. I also headed back to La Boqueria, where they sell cups of natural fruit juice for one euro each. They're really addictive; I tried different three flavors within one hour. I also bought a pair of earrings from a local artisan. I'm quite pleased with them, especially since they shine with many facets of color. Thanks to my natural sense of time – or better said, my sneakiness at spying on other people's watches – I made it to the Airport bus station on time for my flight.
Overall, I had a pretty good impression of Barcelona. I definitely preferred it over Madrid, but the weather could have been a factor. However, I'm not sure if I would have liked to study in Barcelona. Although many people speak Spanish, many prefer to speak Catalán, which is a separate language altogether. It's also hard to practice Spanish when people want to practice their English, or think that they're doing you a favor by speaking in English. I guess it's going to take me a while before I can pass as a good Spanish speaker.
But among the masses in the Plaza de Catalunya, Christine managed to find me. We walked down Las Ramblas, and headed to La Boqueria, a colorful market with meat, fish, and fruits galore. I really enjoyed the atmosphere of Las Ramblas, especially since it's filled with human statues -- and some pretty good ones, I must say. At La Boqueria, I met Christine's friends from London. They were eating paella at a restaurant, but I just sat down and ate my chicken bocadillo that Meli had prepared for me (yay for not having to pay). Afterwards, we took a bus headed to Montjuïc (Mount of the Jews), where the Olympic Stadium is located. We got lost along the way, so I asked someone, in Spanish, how to get to the stadium. He must have thought that I didn't get what he said, or noticed my American accent, because he responded in English.
Before actually exploring the Olympic sites, we visited the museum. It basically gave a history of the Olympics and every sport. The coolest part, though, was getting to watch clips from the past Olympic Games. I watched the women's gymnastics during the 1996 Atlanta games, and it just amazed me how young the girls appeared (when I was younger, they looked so much older). We then entered the stadium, roamed around the general plaza area, and took some pictures. Since we were on top of a hill, we had a pretty good view of the rest of Barcelona.
Christine and her friends had to leave in the evening, so we returned to the downtown area fairly early. Her friends decided to go shopping, but I didn't wanted to be tempted to spend more money. I walked with Christine for a bit and just talked. But alas, I had to say goodbye to her, and I headed off to get some food. I headed to Maoz Falafel, where they give you an empty pita with falafels, and you can fill it up with whatever toppings you want – buffet style. After my filling meal, I decided to just explore the city. I walked up a big street that takes you to the famous Gaudi houses, Casa Batilò and Casa Milà (La Pedrera). I didn't think they looked that impressive, at least during the nighttime. I guess I expected something much bigger, something that didn't suddenly appear among the rows of typical apartment buildings. I kept walking up the street, expecting to somehow reach Parc Guëll, which didn't happen (only later did I realize that Parc Guëll is on top of another high hill). My feet ached, so I gave up and headed back to my hostel.
The next day, I explored the Citadel Park (Parc de la Ciutella), which is a large, lovely park. It's probably the most green space I had seen in all of Barcelona. I also heard some bits of Catalán – but out of context (that is, Barcelona), I'd probably have problems identifying it. I then tried to find the harbor and the beaches, but only found the port for the boats. Next, I explored the Cathedral and roamed around Barri Gòtic (the Gothic Barrio), which is basically the remains of Roman Barcelona. To me, it was a sharp contrast to the modern vision I had of Barcelona. The old Roman quarter was very quaint, filled with little shops and cafés, while colorful laundry, from the apartments above, swayed in the wind.
I read that the Picasso museum gets busy during the early hours, so I decided to kill some time by visiting Casa Batilò and Casa Milà again. Personally, I think these buildings look better during the daylight hours (especially when you can see the colors and intricate details). I only took pictures from the outside, since I didn't feel like paying to go in. I'm much more self-conscious when I'm taking pictures with Moe, so I tried to be as discrete about it as much as possible.
The Picasso museum is free on Sundays (yay!). The line was fairly long, but it moved quickly. The museum mostly features works from Picasso's early career, so it was interesting to see how his works had evolved. I also got to see Picasso's versions of “Las Meninas,” which at first glance, appear to be total distortions of Velazquez's original.
I probably spent about an hour or two at the museum, but without a watch, I really had no idea. I overhead someone saying that it was almost 5 o'clock, so I thought I should visit Parc Guëll. I thought it would especially be nice to see the view of Barcelona at sunset. I hopped on a bus that took me directly to the entrance of the park. The park itself was much bigger than I had expected. It doesn't only consist of the famous circular benches and the lizard fountain; it goes up and out to another hill. I spent a good amount of time exploring the different paths and taking pictures of the scenery. For others, though, it was basically a lover's playground. I kind of wished I could have shared the experience with someone, but I enjoyed my freedom and adventure.
The next day, I visited La Sagrada Familia, a huge church constructed by Gaudi, which has been under works for a while now. It consists of three facades, of the Passion, the Nativity, and the Glory. The Nativity facade was actually completed by Gaudi, and to me, it looks quite different from the Passion one, which was made by someone else. The Nativity facade is a lot more ornate, a lot more breath-taking, but the Passion facade has some interesting symbols (such as a grid of numbers that has over 310 combinations to add up to 33 – the age in which Jesus died). The interior (the Nave) is completely under construction, but you can see that it was designed to imitate a forest. Afterwards, I went to the top, where I had a closer peak at some of the Nativity facade. But I have to admit, I'm quite scared of heights, and I had a feeling that I was going to drop my camera at any point. Luckily, I didn't.
I decided to get a haircut from a Chinese salon, since peluquerias chinas are basically non-existent in Sevilla –- and based on my experience, only Chinese hair dressers have to guts to thin out a lot of hair. It was a bit difficult to communicate with the hair dressers, since I couldn't understand their Spanish (I'm not sure if they're more accustomed to speaking in Spanish or Catalán). They spoke Mandarin, but my Mandarin really isn't that advanced, so that was out of the question. But I basically got what I wanted: lots of hair cut and thinned out.
I spent the rest of the afternoon wandering through Las Ramblas. I also headed back to La Boqueria, where they sell cups of natural fruit juice for one euro each. They're really addictive; I tried different three flavors within one hour. I also bought a pair of earrings from a local artisan. I'm quite pleased with them, especially since they shine with many facets of color. Thanks to my natural sense of time – or better said, my sneakiness at spying on other people's watches – I made it to the Airport bus station on time for my flight.
Overall, I had a pretty good impression of Barcelona. I definitely preferred it over Madrid, but the weather could have been a factor. However, I'm not sure if I would have liked to study in Barcelona. Although many people speak Spanish, many prefer to speak Catalán, which is a separate language altogether. It's also hard to practice Spanish when people want to practice their English, or think that they're doing you a favor by speaking in English. I guess it's going to take me a while before I can pass as a good Spanish speaker.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Spanish friends
I recently joined the University of Sevilla's Intercambio Lingüístico program, in which you practice the language you are studying (in my case, Spanish) with a native speaker who wants to learn your native language. I had my first intercambio with a girl named Saray. She's a bit older than me, but she's extremely nice and really chill. She dressed quite casually, which surprised me at first, since most of the women here dress well. She is currently studying architecture, so she taught me a lot of history about the city. She took me to the Reales Atarazanas, or the historic Royal Shipyards. It's located right in the center of the city, yet I had never even passed by it before. Saray told me that we could out for tapas sometime (Score! Believe it or not, I still haven't tried the tapas here). She even introduced me to her friends, and told me that I could go out with her and her friends sometime. I didn't expect to see this type of hospitality from Spaniards, since I thought intercambios, at most, only created superficial relationships. But I could see that she was genuinely interested in getting to know people, which I appreciated. Later that night, she sent me a text message, inviting me to hang out with her friends, and that I could bring anybody. At first, I felt like turning down the offer, because I had been out all day and thought I should do something productive (you know, like homework). But Andrea, my roommate, was begging me to go, saying that it's been her dream to go out with some Spaniards. I ultimately agreed to it. We went to a few bars, just talking to Saray and her friends. Most of them know English too, so it was fun to have bilingual conversations. One of the guys is from Valencia, and said that he would cook a paella for us (Score again!). Andrea and I left around 3:00 am, which is still a bit early for them. But I'm happy that I did decide to go out and challenge my social skills.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Flamenco
I´m finally taking flamenco classes in Sevilla. It´s been a difficult to find the ´right´ teacher or class. Not only is my schedule a bit tight, but most of the renowned teachers (that my flamenco teacher recommended to me) have basically retired and passed on their studio to their alumni. Also, a lot of flamenco dancers don´t really dance traditionally, which has been my training. Triana (the neighborhood that I live in) actually has a few flamenco studios, but I decided to try out Andrés Marín´s studio, which is about 30 min. away from my house by foot. Andrés is known as a innovative contemporary dancer, so I already knew it would be a experience different from what I´m used to.
I decided to enroll in the intermediate/advanced class - not because I´m really that good, but because it fits better into my schedule. After watching one of the classes, I thought the footwork & choreography was relativey do-able. My first day wasn´t easy, though. My teacher back home really likes to show things slowly, to make sure we get things right, but here, it´s a different story. One of the teachers, Úrsula López, would show us a footwork pattern once, and then we had to immediately do it. No explanations, no breakdowns. Afterwards, we had to do it to a super fast compás (beat/rhythm). I was really sweating within the first 15 minutes! Towards the end, we danced (or should I say, the other people did) the seguiriyas - which is a dance style I´ve never actually danced before (it´s probably the most solemn style I´ve had to learn so far). I was a bit surprised, because I thought Úrsula´s class was just a technique class, not a choregraphy one. It´s going to take me a while to pick it up, since everyone else already knows the choreography, and there are a lot of non-traditional steps involved.
This past Tuesday, Andrés actually taught the class. Like Úrsula, he would show us a pattern once. It was´n´t easy for me, but the other students could repeat it immediately. We had to do a lot of fast footwork, and it was really easy to forget the sequence. I messed up a number of times. My toe was actually bleeding by the end of class. I found it so funny ´cause it´s never happened to me before.
It´s been difficult, but I am learning relatively quickly and I´m up for challenges. I´ve also paid for a month of classes so I have to stick with it.
I decided to enroll in the intermediate/advanced class - not because I´m really that good, but because it fits better into my schedule. After watching one of the classes, I thought the footwork & choreography was relativey do-able. My first day wasn´t easy, though. My teacher back home really likes to show things slowly, to make sure we get things right, but here, it´s a different story. One of the teachers, Úrsula López, would show us a footwork pattern once, and then we had to immediately do it. No explanations, no breakdowns. Afterwards, we had to do it to a super fast compás (beat/rhythm). I was really sweating within the first 15 minutes! Towards the end, we danced (or should I say, the other people did) the seguiriyas - which is a dance style I´ve never actually danced before (it´s probably the most solemn style I´ve had to learn so far). I was a bit surprised, because I thought Úrsula´s class was just a technique class, not a choregraphy one. It´s going to take me a while to pick it up, since everyone else already knows the choreography, and there are a lot of non-traditional steps involved.
This past Tuesday, Andrés actually taught the class. Like Úrsula, he would show us a pattern once. It was´n´t easy for me, but the other students could repeat it immediately. We had to do a lot of fast footwork, and it was really easy to forget the sequence. I messed up a number of times. My toe was actually bleeding by the end of class. I found it so funny ´cause it´s never happened to me before.
It´s been difficult, but I am learning relatively quickly and I´m up for challenges. I´ve also paid for a month of classes so I have to stick with it.
Thursday, February 12, 2009
La Universidad de Sevilla
After four weeks of pro-seminars (culture and grammar classes at the Center), I finally started taking classes at the University of Sevilla. There isn´t an actual campus, because the buildings are spread across the city. Fortunately, all of my classes are in the same building, which isn´t too far from home or the Center. The building used to be the Real Fábrica de Tabacos, home to the cigarette factory of Bizet´s Carmen (you know, that famous opera). There are a lot of open patios placed inside the building, so it´s easy to catch some sun (or rain) between classes. Some students also enjoy a quick smoke in the patios.
Here are the classes I´m taking:
Historia de Al-Andalus (Historia of Al-Andalus): Al-Andalus is the Arabic name for Andalucía. The first day of class was cancelled, because of the damage from the rain. The sign on the door said that the class was moved to a different classroom, yet still it was cancelled (apparently it´s normal around here). But we did have class the next day. One intersting fact: the name Al-Andalus is derived from Atlantis, the mystical island from the Greek classics. The Arabs, familiar with Greek knowledge, believed Andalucía to be an island.
Sociolingüística Andaluza (Andalucían Sociolinguistics): the professor is very engaging, and very nice. The first thing he said to us was, it doesn´t matter if some of us speak Spanish as a native language, and some of us don´t -- in his class, we´re all equal. We haven´t covered much material, but I´m excited to learn about the way the people of Andalucía speak.
Historia Medieval y Moderna de España (Medieval and Modern History of Spain): Except for one older gentleman, nobody showed up to the first day of class, including the professor. We ended up going to the aconsejeria (counseling services) of a few departments, asking what happened to the class (the guy did most of the talking, I should say). We were provided very little answers, and the counselors didn´t seem active in figuring out what happened. I don´t think I´ll be taking this class, due to the extremely low student enrollmenet.
Sociedad y Literatura en Hispanoamerica (Society and Literature in Hispanoamerica): the class is packed with extranjeros (foreigners -- probably all American). I think only four or five of the students are actual Spaniards. The first day of class wasn´t that exciting, as the professor only talked about the life history of one of the autors we´ll be studying. In general, it seems like professors here like to doddle on unnecessary details, such as the history of things (when the class isn´t about history).
Relato Hispanoamericano (Hispanoamerican stories): located in a medium-sized lecture hall, which surprised me a bit, because I´m not used to having literature classes in this type of a classroom. The type of work is similar to the other class, Sociedad y Literatura en Hispanoamerica, but this professor seems more interesting.
Cartografía de la memoria colectiva: la Guerra Civil y sus presentes (Cartography of collective memory: the Spanish Civil War and its presence): a class at the Center taught by an actual Penn professor, so I´m sure I´ll receive credit (which is also why most people are taking this class). The material sounds fascinating, but the readings are supposedly challenging and the professor tends to talk rapidly.
Here are the classes I´m taking:
Historia de Al-Andalus (Historia of Al-Andalus): Al-Andalus is the Arabic name for Andalucía. The first day of class was cancelled, because of the damage from the rain. The sign on the door said that the class was moved to a different classroom, yet still it was cancelled (apparently it´s normal around here). But we did have class the next day. One intersting fact: the name Al-Andalus is derived from Atlantis, the mystical island from the Greek classics. The Arabs, familiar with Greek knowledge, believed Andalucía to be an island.
Sociolingüística Andaluza (Andalucían Sociolinguistics): the professor is very engaging, and very nice. The first thing he said to us was, it doesn´t matter if some of us speak Spanish as a native language, and some of us don´t -- in his class, we´re all equal. We haven´t covered much material, but I´m excited to learn about the way the people of Andalucía speak.
Historia Medieval y Moderna de España (Medieval and Modern History of Spain): Except for one older gentleman, nobody showed up to the first day of class, including the professor. We ended up going to the aconsejeria (counseling services) of a few departments, asking what happened to the class (the guy did most of the talking, I should say). We were provided very little answers, and the counselors didn´t seem active in figuring out what happened. I don´t think I´ll be taking this class, due to the extremely low student enrollmenet.
Sociedad y Literatura en Hispanoamerica (Society and Literature in Hispanoamerica): the class is packed with extranjeros (foreigners -- probably all American). I think only four or five of the students are actual Spaniards. The first day of class wasn´t that exciting, as the professor only talked about the life history of one of the autors we´ll be studying. In general, it seems like professors here like to doddle on unnecessary details, such as the history of things (when the class isn´t about history).
Relato Hispanoamericano (Hispanoamerican stories): located in a medium-sized lecture hall, which surprised me a bit, because I´m not used to having literature classes in this type of a classroom. The type of work is similar to the other class, Sociedad y Literatura en Hispanoamerica, but this professor seems more interesting.
Cartografía de la memoria colectiva: la Guerra Civil y sus presentes (Cartography of collective memory: the Spanish Civil War and its presence): a class at the Center taught by an actual Penn professor, so I´m sure I´ll receive credit (which is also why most people are taking this class). The material sounds fascinating, but the readings are supposedly challenging and the professor tends to talk rapidly.
Thursday, February 5, 2009
Rain rain, go away...
It´s been raining in Sevilla for the past two weeks. And I hate it. Normally, I can tolerate it, thanks to my comfy rainboots. But I expected more pleasant weather, and hence, I didn´t bring my rainboots. Big mistake. The only form of waterproof footwear I have are my puma sneakers, but they´re useless. They´re completely worn out, and basically function like sponges. I guess after a while I get used to it, but the water is pretty dirty. Possibly with the remains of dog poo.
Monday, February 2, 2009
Some more beautiful sites in Sevilla
Los Reales Alcázares
Marriage site of Charles V (Holy Roman Empire) & Isabella of Portugal
Friday, January 30, 2009
Madrid
Last weekend I traveled to Madrid with the other students in the program. We took the AVE, a fast train that travels from Sevilla to Madrid in about 2 hours. It always leaves on time, and always arrives on time.
My first impression of Madrid was that it looks pretty dull. I guess the season is partly to blame, especially since it’s winter and the trees have no leaves whatsoever. But all of the buildings were either one of two colors: off-white or brick red. Madrid looks like just another big metropolis – think New York, only less congested. I definitely do think Sevilla is prettier, and a better place to live. The people in Sevilla seem nicer and laidback.
The first night that we tried to go out for dinner was a bit of a disaster. Originally, we had planned to get tapas, but we had really no idea where to go. We stopped by one restaurant, and sat down with the menus. However, after the waiter told us that they don’t serve tapas until the Saturday, the whole group (about 11 people) walked out. It was kind of awkward. We then stopped by another restaurant, and we were informed that the restaurants don’t usually serve tapas until 8:30 pm. We decided to stop by a nearby grocery store for some light food, before we headed out again later at night. At the hotel, we decided to join in on another group’s dinner plans. They wanted to go to a restaurant named The Finca de Susana, and then head to a Cuban restaurant for dancing. However, when we got to that restaurant, we saw that there were no available seats, and the wait would be long. We gave up on that idea, and the group split up in search of food. At that point, it was around 10 o’clock. I was really hungry and would have settled for anything. We ended up at a restaurant/café named Las Fatigas de Querer. Andrea and I shared a humongous, sizzling plate of steak. I liked it, though it was oily and was more than enough meat for the week. After dinner, we headed over to the Negra Tomatita for some dancing. The one guy who danced with me asked me where I was from, and I said “Estados Unidos,” but I told him that I wanted to practice my Spanish. To my dismay, whenever I tried to talk to him in Spanish, he kept talking to me in English (maybe I should have said I was from China?) Although I didn’t really dance with many guys, I had fun being with my other friends in the program. I really enjoy dancing bachata, so it disappointed me that no guy asked me to dance bachata. Whenever they played bachata music, I just lead another girl.
The second day we visited the Prado, a museum featuring the artwork of Spanish artists like Goya and Velazquez. We had a long two-hour guided tour. I didn’t really appreciate it, because the guide only pointed out certain paintings, and I wanted time to just look at the captions and contemplate the meaning of each. Nonetheless, I was glad to see Las Meninas by Velazquez, which has always been one of favorite paintings. In fact, I actually bought a (children’s) book about the infantia of Las Meninas. I’m really a sucker for things like these, but I bought it to improve my Spanish. Plus, it comes with a free poster of Las Meninas!
Later in the afternoon, Andrea, Austin and I visited la Reina Sofia, which is home to Picasso’s Guernica. The painting is quite big, and up close, I could see the texture and mixture of paint. The museum also had pictures of Guernica step by step in the making, so it was interesting to see Picasso’s original intentions. Besides Guernica, nothing else seemed that interesting to me, as it only featured abstract modern art. Austin and I also lost Andrea along the way, so we spent most of the time just looking for her.
That night, we decided to try our luck again at La Finca de Susana, since it apparently is a very nice restaurant that offers relatively cheap food. We arrived earlier than the night before, so we were able to sit down immediately. What I was most surprised about were the waiters. They were all Asian. Filipino, maybe. I guess it’s not that surprising, since Madrid is a metropolitan of different ethnicities, but a fancy restaurant doesn’t sound like a usual place for immigrants to work at. Anyway, the service wasn’t that great. We tried to order our food in Spanish, but the waiters, pressed for time, made us order in English. Also, one of the waitresses brought out a dish of croquettes that none of us had ordered. We tried to tell her that none of us ordered that. She thought we didn’t understand, so she repeated the name of the dish in English, which was unnecessary because “croquetas” and “croquettes” don’t sound that different. Besides the bad service, the food was decent. I wouldn’t say it was the best, because the gambas (shrimp) were smaller than I expected, and the fish and mushroom kebabs were slightly more charcoaled than I would have liked.
The next day, we visited the Palacio Real (the Royal Palace). The exterior looks kind of dull, but the inside is magnificent. The rooms we visited included the king’s bedroom, the room with the king’s throne, and the king’s dressing room (and queen has a lot of her own, too). Every room is highly decorated (Baroque style) and has a certain color theme. Although the decoration seemed a bit too ornate, the palace gave me inspiration on what my future house should look like (haha). After roaming around the palace, I stopped by the gift shop. And guess what? I bought another children’s book! This book was about Goya and his painting of May 2, 1898 – another famous painting that I really like.
It was raining by the time we left the palace, and I wasn’t too happy about that because one of my shoes was torn and my foot was half-way soaked. But I decided to join the others in getting food at a local café. I really like getting coffee here, because they always serve them in cute little cups (I guess I can’t say much about American cafes, since coffee is mostly served in paper cups). The lack of tipping also makes things easier for me. One thing I’ve realized is that most restaurants aren’t accustomed to individualized orders that are different from what’s offered on the menu. For example, some of the girls tried ordering a sandwich without mayonnaise, but the waiter just seemed confused and overwhelmed. After lunch, we stopped by a sweet shop and purchased some filloas, which are cinnamon-y wraps with a cream filling. I really like the sweet shops in Spain, because of the traditional/fancy décor and the drool-worthy pastries.
We again took the AVE to return to Sevilla. I was sitting by Terry, and we spent the last 20 minutes listening to Britney Spears and dancing in our seats.
Good times, but I was definitely ready to head back to Sevilla.
My first impression of Madrid was that it looks pretty dull. I guess the season is partly to blame, especially since it’s winter and the trees have no leaves whatsoever. But all of the buildings were either one of two colors: off-white or brick red. Madrid looks like just another big metropolis – think New York, only less congested. I definitely do think Sevilla is prettier, and a better place to live. The people in Sevilla seem nicer and laidback.
The first night that we tried to go out for dinner was a bit of a disaster. Originally, we had planned to get tapas, but we had really no idea where to go. We stopped by one restaurant, and sat down with the menus. However, after the waiter told us that they don’t serve tapas until the Saturday, the whole group (about 11 people) walked out. It was kind of awkward. We then stopped by another restaurant, and we were informed that the restaurants don’t usually serve tapas until 8:30 pm. We decided to stop by a nearby grocery store for some light food, before we headed out again later at night. At the hotel, we decided to join in on another group’s dinner plans. They wanted to go to a restaurant named The Finca de Susana, and then head to a Cuban restaurant for dancing. However, when we got to that restaurant, we saw that there were no available seats, and the wait would be long. We gave up on that idea, and the group split up in search of food. At that point, it was around 10 o’clock. I was really hungry and would have settled for anything. We ended up at a restaurant/café named Las Fatigas de Querer. Andrea and I shared a humongous, sizzling plate of steak. I liked it, though it was oily and was more than enough meat for the week. After dinner, we headed over to the Negra Tomatita for some dancing. The one guy who danced with me asked me where I was from, and I said “Estados Unidos,” but I told him that I wanted to practice my Spanish. To my dismay, whenever I tried to talk to him in Spanish, he kept talking to me in English (maybe I should have said I was from China?) Although I didn’t really dance with many guys, I had fun being with my other friends in the program. I really enjoy dancing bachata, so it disappointed me that no guy asked me to dance bachata. Whenever they played bachata music, I just lead another girl.
The second day we visited the Prado, a museum featuring the artwork of Spanish artists like Goya and Velazquez. We had a long two-hour guided tour. I didn’t really appreciate it, because the guide only pointed out certain paintings, and I wanted time to just look at the captions and contemplate the meaning of each. Nonetheless, I was glad to see Las Meninas by Velazquez, which has always been one of favorite paintings. In fact, I actually bought a (children’s) book about the infantia of Las Meninas. I’m really a sucker for things like these, but I bought it to improve my Spanish. Plus, it comes with a free poster of Las Meninas!
Later in the afternoon, Andrea, Austin and I visited la Reina Sofia, which is home to Picasso’s Guernica. The painting is quite big, and up close, I could see the texture and mixture of paint. The museum also had pictures of Guernica step by step in the making, so it was interesting to see Picasso’s original intentions. Besides Guernica, nothing else seemed that interesting to me, as it only featured abstract modern art. Austin and I also lost Andrea along the way, so we spent most of the time just looking for her.
That night, we decided to try our luck again at La Finca de Susana, since it apparently is a very nice restaurant that offers relatively cheap food. We arrived earlier than the night before, so we were able to sit down immediately. What I was most surprised about were the waiters. They were all Asian. Filipino, maybe. I guess it’s not that surprising, since Madrid is a metropolitan of different ethnicities, but a fancy restaurant doesn’t sound like a usual place for immigrants to work at. Anyway, the service wasn’t that great. We tried to order our food in Spanish, but the waiters, pressed for time, made us order in English. Also, one of the waitresses brought out a dish of croquettes that none of us had ordered. We tried to tell her that none of us ordered that. She thought we didn’t understand, so she repeated the name of the dish in English, which was unnecessary because “croquetas” and “croquettes” don’t sound that different. Besides the bad service, the food was decent. I wouldn’t say it was the best, because the gambas (shrimp) were smaller than I expected, and the fish and mushroom kebabs were slightly more charcoaled than I would have liked.
The next day, we visited the Palacio Real (the Royal Palace). The exterior looks kind of dull, but the inside is magnificent. The rooms we visited included the king’s bedroom, the room with the king’s throne, and the king’s dressing room (and queen has a lot of her own, too). Every room is highly decorated (Baroque style) and has a certain color theme. Although the decoration seemed a bit too ornate, the palace gave me inspiration on what my future house should look like (haha). After roaming around the palace, I stopped by the gift shop. And guess what? I bought another children’s book! This book was about Goya and his painting of May 2, 1898 – another famous painting that I really like.
It was raining by the time we left the palace, and I wasn’t too happy about that because one of my shoes was torn and my foot was half-way soaked. But I decided to join the others in getting food at a local café. I really like getting coffee here, because they always serve them in cute little cups (I guess I can’t say much about American cafes, since coffee is mostly served in paper cups). The lack of tipping also makes things easier for me. One thing I’ve realized is that most restaurants aren’t accustomed to individualized orders that are different from what’s offered on the menu. For example, some of the girls tried ordering a sandwich without mayonnaise, but the waiter just seemed confused and overwhelmed. After lunch, we stopped by a sweet shop and purchased some filloas, which are cinnamon-y wraps with a cream filling. I really like the sweet shops in Spain, because of the traditional/fancy décor and the drool-worthy pastries.
We again took the AVE to return to Sevilla. I was sitting by Terry, and we spent the last 20 minutes listening to Britney Spears and dancing in our seats.
Good times, but I was definitely ready to head back to Sevilla.
Wednesday, January 28, 2009
Some things I've learned in Spanish
Aseo: means “bathroom” – or the toilets, literally. Don’t say “¿Dónde están el baño?” or else people will think you’re looking for a place to wash yourself.
Guay: means “cool” or “neat.” Used mostly by the young people.
Zumo: means “juice.” It’s not “jugo” in Spain.
Ordenador: means computer. Yes, it’s not “la computadora” in Spain. I’ve made this mistake far too many times to count.
Torpe: my new favorite word, which means awkward or clumsy. Andrea and I are currently keep track of points to see who’s more awkward.
Vale: means “ok” or “sure.” People here say it all the time. And I mean all the time. But it’s useful.
Apparently “v’s” are always pronounced as “b’s.” I’ve taken Spanish for at least eight years, and I have never been explicitly told this (well, except that veinte, or twenty, should be pronounced with a “b”). I’m thus having trouble adjusting my pronunciation.
Guay: means “cool” or “neat.” Used mostly by the young people.
Zumo: means “juice.” It’s not “jugo” in Spain.
Ordenador: means computer. Yes, it’s not “la computadora” in Spain. I’ve made this mistake far too many times to count.
Torpe: my new favorite word, which means awkward or clumsy. Andrea and I are currently keep track of points to see who’s more awkward.
Vale: means “ok” or “sure.” People here say it all the time. And I mean all the time. But it’s useful.
Apparently “v’s” are always pronounced as “b’s.” I’ve taken Spanish for at least eight years, and I have never been explicitly told this (well, except that veinte, or twenty, should be pronounced with a “b”). I’m thus having trouble adjusting my pronunciation.
Monday, January 19, 2009
The MCP Program
After staying in Sevilla for three nights, I was ready to start the MCP program. I enjoyed walking around and exploring the city, but I felt like a total extranjera (foreigner), given my race and inability to speak the language fluently. I felt lonely, not necessarily because I missed people, but because I needed others to help me cope with these feelings. I needed the reassurance that I wasn’t the only one feeling this way.
On Sunday morning, I took a taxi from my hostel to Hotel Bècquer, where we would stay for the next few nights. The taxi driver seemed especially happy when I tipped him. In Spain, people don’t usually tip for the taxi or in restaurants, but if they do, they usually just round up or pay one euro.
My roommate in the hotel was Amy, who studies psychology at Cornell. Unfortunately, the hotel only has one key for each room, but it didn’t turn out to be a problem, since I hung out with Amy most of the time. Since I had some time to explore the city, I took her around to see the sites. We went to el Parque Maria Luisa, a large park with huge botanical gardens, fountains, and a variety of birds. It was beautiful. It seemed like the ideal place to study or just sit and relax. We also explored the Plaza de España, which is one of the postcard images of Sevilla. I don’t know many details about the square and its surrounding buildings, but according to my guide book, the Plaza de España was the site of the 1929 international fair for Spanish-speaking countries.
Amy and I only spoke Spanish around each other, thanks to the initiation on Amy’s behalf. I really appreciated her effort; despite the suggestions of Eva, Luisa, and Pepe (who are in charge of the program in Sevilla), many of the other students prefer to only speak in English. Of course, it’s easier to speak English, but it makes me feel even more out of place. Still, I do like the other students in my program. At first, it was kind of awkward: I didn’t really know anyone, and I dislike social settings in which I’m forced to make small talk with other people. But slowly, I’ve been getting to know people better, and I’m starting to warm up too. As a group all together we’re a bit of a disaster, though. We’ve been in trouble for our little social gathering in one of the hotel rooms (way to reinforce the stereotype of American as being loud and inconsiderate!). Because of our noisiness, we’ve also been yelled at by one of the hotel staff. Yet it’s funny to me, because it reminds me so much of the silliness of freshman year, especially our need to walk out in large groups.
One of the people I’ve met is Terry, who attends the University of Michigan. He is possibly the loudest and most talkative person I have ever met in my life. He actually does ballroom too. The funny thing is, I think I saw him and his partner competing at Ohio Star Ball (in case any of you guys remember, his partner was the one wearing the really green dress in Silver Latin/Rhythm). During one of our free times, we actually danced a bit together, which I enjoyed. I guess I have a temporary practice partner!
It hasn’t been all fun and games, though. After a few days of setting in, we started cultural immersion and language classes at the Centro. They’re supposed to be intensive, so they took about three hours each day. First, we have a lecture on some cultural topic, then we have a discussion led by some native speaker. The lectures haven’t been the most interesting, since I’ve learned a lot of the information before. The discussions are okay, but we’re being graded in terms of participation (especially how well we’ve read the articles). On the first day of discussion, we have to put into order which topics interest Spaniards, from most to least. One of the guys in the my group wanted to put politics first, which didn’t sound completely right to me, but I thought, whatever. I didn’t remember the article in its entirety, but it turns out that the politics is the thing that Spaniards care least about. Oops.
After living in the hotel for about four nights, we moved in to live with our host families. I am currently sharing a room with Andrea, who attends the University of Michigan. We live in Triana, which is in a quaint neighborhood across the Guadalquivir river and, fortunately, close to the Centro. A lot of the other students are living in Porvenir (the future), which is more modern but also sort of ugly. Every time I walk across the bridge to the Center or back to Triana, I get a magnificent view of the city and the waterfront. Triana is full of ceramic shops, tapas, cafes, and impromptu flamenco. In fact, we live directly in front of Casa Anselma, which has a lot of flamenco performances at night. A lot of flamenco shows are geared towards tourists, but Casa Anselma is place where a lot of locals attend. When Andrea and I passed by yesterday, we could see some people dancing the Sevillanas.
Most of the students in the program are living with old señoras, who are widowed and house international students for the extra income. Andrea and I, however, are living with an actual family. The mother’s name is Emilia, but she goes by Meli. She apparently had wanted to name one of her daughters Andrea, because she really likes that name. Whenever she tries to call us, she only addresses Andrea. She also forgot my name once. This makes me feel left out at times, but I’m trying not to take it personally. The father’s name is Ernesto. He kind of reminds me of Santa Claus: big and jolly minus the beard. He’s an excellent cook, and he laugh at the fact that he has to lose weight.
Ernesto and Meli have three daughters and one son, and two of their daughters (Maria and Rosa) are still living with them. I enjoy living with a family because I get to see how they interact, and how the young generation speaks. Living with Andrea also means I get to hear the use of vosotros more often, which sometimes feels foreign to my ears.
I have currently adapted to the Spanish eating schedule. I eat all my meals at home. Breakfast is simple, as it only consists of a few pieces of toast with margarine or marmalade. The time for breakfast depends the time we wake up, and lately it has been around 11 o’clock. Lunch is usually around 2 o’clock, and it is the most important and most formal meal of the day. The whole family sits down at the table, and we don’t start eating until everyone’s there. Since we eat the most during lunch, a little siesta is necessary, so I usually take a nap afterwards. We don’t eat dinner until 9 o’clock at night (some families eat as late as 10 o’clock), and it’s really informal. Ernesto just leaves out food for us, and Andrea and I just spend the dinner just chatting amongst ourselves and watching TV. Sometimes Andrea doesn’t finish her food, so I finish it for her (I’m her basura, or trash can). I have a feeling that I’ll definitely gain weight from eating all this good food. But we walk so much every day, so it compensates for my gigantic appetite. After dinner, we like to go out and hang out with the other students in the program. The other night, we stayed out until 3 o’clock in the morning, because we went to get ice cream and then headed to a salsa club. I’m really enjoying this pace of life, because it’s so relaxed, yet there’s still time to have fun. Of course, not having access to internet is a pain, but I like living life without thinking about my responsibilities back at school and at home.
On Sunday morning, I took a taxi from my hostel to Hotel Bècquer, where we would stay for the next few nights. The taxi driver seemed especially happy when I tipped him. In Spain, people don’t usually tip for the taxi or in restaurants, but if they do, they usually just round up or pay one euro.
My roommate in the hotel was Amy, who studies psychology at Cornell. Unfortunately, the hotel only has one key for each room, but it didn’t turn out to be a problem, since I hung out with Amy most of the time. Since I had some time to explore the city, I took her around to see the sites. We went to el Parque Maria Luisa, a large park with huge botanical gardens, fountains, and a variety of birds. It was beautiful. It seemed like the ideal place to study or just sit and relax. We also explored the Plaza de España, which is one of the postcard images of Sevilla. I don’t know many details about the square and its surrounding buildings, but according to my guide book, the Plaza de España was the site of the 1929 international fair for Spanish-speaking countries.
Amy and I only spoke Spanish around each other, thanks to the initiation on Amy’s behalf. I really appreciated her effort; despite the suggestions of Eva, Luisa, and Pepe (who are in charge of the program in Sevilla), many of the other students prefer to only speak in English. Of course, it’s easier to speak English, but it makes me feel even more out of place. Still, I do like the other students in my program. At first, it was kind of awkward: I didn’t really know anyone, and I dislike social settings in which I’m forced to make small talk with other people. But slowly, I’ve been getting to know people better, and I’m starting to warm up too. As a group all together we’re a bit of a disaster, though. We’ve been in trouble for our little social gathering in one of the hotel rooms (way to reinforce the stereotype of American as being loud and inconsiderate!). Because of our noisiness, we’ve also been yelled at by one of the hotel staff. Yet it’s funny to me, because it reminds me so much of the silliness of freshman year, especially our need to walk out in large groups.
One of the people I’ve met is Terry, who attends the University of Michigan. He is possibly the loudest and most talkative person I have ever met in my life. He actually does ballroom too. The funny thing is, I think I saw him and his partner competing at Ohio Star Ball (in case any of you guys remember, his partner was the one wearing the really green dress in Silver Latin/Rhythm). During one of our free times, we actually danced a bit together, which I enjoyed. I guess I have a temporary practice partner!
It hasn’t been all fun and games, though. After a few days of setting in, we started cultural immersion and language classes at the Centro. They’re supposed to be intensive, so they took about three hours each day. First, we have a lecture on some cultural topic, then we have a discussion led by some native speaker. The lectures haven’t been the most interesting, since I’ve learned a lot of the information before. The discussions are okay, but we’re being graded in terms of participation (especially how well we’ve read the articles). On the first day of discussion, we have to put into order which topics interest Spaniards, from most to least. One of the guys in the my group wanted to put politics first, which didn’t sound completely right to me, but I thought, whatever. I didn’t remember the article in its entirety, but it turns out that the politics is the thing that Spaniards care least about. Oops.
After living in the hotel for about four nights, we moved in to live with our host families. I am currently sharing a room with Andrea, who attends the University of Michigan. We live in Triana, which is in a quaint neighborhood across the Guadalquivir river and, fortunately, close to the Centro. A lot of the other students are living in Porvenir (the future), which is more modern but also sort of ugly. Every time I walk across the bridge to the Center or back to Triana, I get a magnificent view of the city and the waterfront. Triana is full of ceramic shops, tapas, cafes, and impromptu flamenco. In fact, we live directly in front of Casa Anselma, which has a lot of flamenco performances at night. A lot of flamenco shows are geared towards tourists, but Casa Anselma is place where a lot of locals attend. When Andrea and I passed by yesterday, we could see some people dancing the Sevillanas.
Most of the students in the program are living with old señoras, who are widowed and house international students for the extra income. Andrea and I, however, are living with an actual family. The mother’s name is Emilia, but she goes by Meli. She apparently had wanted to name one of her daughters Andrea, because she really likes that name. Whenever she tries to call us, she only addresses Andrea. She also forgot my name once. This makes me feel left out at times, but I’m trying not to take it personally. The father’s name is Ernesto. He kind of reminds me of Santa Claus: big and jolly minus the beard. He’s an excellent cook, and he laugh at the fact that he has to lose weight.
Ernesto and Meli have three daughters and one son, and two of their daughters (Maria and Rosa) are still living with them. I enjoy living with a family because I get to see how they interact, and how the young generation speaks. Living with Andrea also means I get to hear the use of vosotros more often, which sometimes feels foreign to my ears.
I have currently adapted to the Spanish eating schedule. I eat all my meals at home. Breakfast is simple, as it only consists of a few pieces of toast with margarine or marmalade. The time for breakfast depends the time we wake up, and lately it has been around 11 o’clock. Lunch is usually around 2 o’clock, and it is the most important and most formal meal of the day. The whole family sits down at the table, and we don’t start eating until everyone’s there. Since we eat the most during lunch, a little siesta is necessary, so I usually take a nap afterwards. We don’t eat dinner until 9 o’clock at night (some families eat as late as 10 o’clock), and it’s really informal. Ernesto just leaves out food for us, and Andrea and I just spend the dinner just chatting amongst ourselves and watching TV. Sometimes Andrea doesn’t finish her food, so I finish it for her (I’m her basura, or trash can). I have a feeling that I’ll definitely gain weight from eating all this good food. But we walk so much every day, so it compensates for my gigantic appetite. After dinner, we like to go out and hang out with the other students in the program. The other night, we stayed out until 3 o’clock in the morning, because we went to get ice cream and then headed to a salsa club. I’m really enjoying this pace of life, because it’s so relaxed, yet there’s still time to have fun. Of course, not having access to internet is a pain, but I like living life without thinking about my responsibilities back at school and at home.
Introduction to Sevilla
I’m sorry that I haven’t updated this blog. My computer was out of battery, and the plug converter that I brought doesn’t even work. The plug for the power cord has three prongs, but most converters are meant for plugs with just two prongs. I actually bought another plug converter online and had it shipped express to me. In the meantime, I’ve only used the computers of other people.
Just to orient yourselves better, I should at least give you a brief introduction to Sevilla and the culture. Sevilla is the heart of Andalucía (or Andaluz, as the people here call it), which is the region in the south of Spain. Andalucía is the home of everything traditionally Spanish, such as flamenco, bullfighting, and tapas. Yet it is also the crossroads of cultures. Andalucía was the home to the Moors, the Jews, and the gypsies. Before the Reconquista in 1492, the entire south of Spain was ruled was Muslims. The Muslims have left their mark most evident in the architecture. This fusion of cultures is what’s most exciting for me. The MCP (Michigan-Cornell-Penn) program also includes excursions to other cities in Andalucía, such as Cádiz, Córdoba, and Granada (the last Muslim stronghold), so I’m excited to their distinctive characteristics as well.
Just to orient yourselves better, I should at least give you a brief introduction to Sevilla and the culture. Sevilla is the heart of Andalucía (or Andaluz, as the people here call it), which is the region in the south of Spain. Andalucía is the home of everything traditionally Spanish, such as flamenco, bullfighting, and tapas. Yet it is also the crossroads of cultures. Andalucía was the home to the Moors, the Jews, and the gypsies. Before the Reconquista in 1492, the entire south of Spain was ruled was Muslims. The Muslims have left their mark most evident in the architecture. This fusion of cultures is what’s most exciting for me. The MCP (Michigan-Cornell-Penn) program also includes excursions to other cities in Andalucía, such as Cádiz, Córdoba, and Granada (the last Muslim stronghold), so I’m excited to their distinctive characteristics as well.
Friday, January 9, 2009
First Day in Sevilla
My flight to Sevilla was long. I spent about 15 hours traveling. I am have also been sick. I take my medicine every 4 hours, yet I am still stuffed with mucus (sorry, I know it's gross). Finding the hostel was also a bit difficult, as it's located on some hidden alley. The hostel is located by a street called Calle Sierpes, which has a lot of name brand stores, but at night, the street was completed deserted. It was a bit scary, actually. But when I went out this afternoon, it was bustling with people.
Sevilla is very colorful, and the streets are lined with palm trees and orange trees. It's smaller than a city, but larger than your average town. I have only interacted with a few people so far. Some people have been staring at me, probably because it's quite obvious that I'm not from around here. I am trying to use as little English as possible, but the hostel staff can tell that I'm American, so they start speaking to me in English, even if I initiate the conversation in Spanish. That's not to say that my Spanish is great, though. I totally forgot how to say things like "locker" and "receipt." I also don't fully comprehend what people are saying. However, some local Spanish kids tried interviewing me, asking me questions about my impressions of Sevilla, which went prety smoothly. They had a very distinctive Andalusian accent -- that is, they drop a lot of their 's (i.e. adios becomes adio).
Right now I'm eating bread from a local grocery store because I can't afford to eat out (it costs about 10 euros for a meal -- that's more than $10 in US dollars). I'm planning to go do some more exploring, and hopefully I'll post some pictures soon.
¡Hasta pronto!
Sevilla is very colorful, and the streets are lined with palm trees and orange trees. It's smaller than a city, but larger than your average town. I have only interacted with a few people so far. Some people have been staring at me, probably because it's quite obvious that I'm not from around here. I am trying to use as little English as possible, but the hostel staff can tell that I'm American, so they start speaking to me in English, even if I initiate the conversation in Spanish. That's not to say that my Spanish is great, though. I totally forgot how to say things like "locker" and "receipt." I also don't fully comprehend what people are saying. However, some local Spanish kids tried interviewing me, asking me questions about my impressions of Sevilla, which went prety smoothly. They had a very distinctive Andalusian accent -- that is, they drop a lot of their 's (i.e. adios becomes adio).
Right now I'm eating bread from a local grocery store because I can't afford to eat out (it costs about 10 euros for a meal -- that's more than $10 in US dollars). I'm planning to go do some more exploring, and hopefully I'll post some pictures soon.
¡Hasta pronto!
Thursday, January 8, 2009
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