Andalucia, ctd.

Sevilla's cathedral: Santa Maria de la Sede
View from la Torre Giralda, in Sevilla's cathedral
Sevilla; Puerta de Jerez
Dave and I en route to Cadiz
Cadiz-Carnaval

Andalucia

Cadiz Carnaval
The boat from Rota to Cadiz
Carnaval costumes; myelf, Paula, Dave, Miguel
An afternoon of Tapas in Malaga
Malaga cathedral

I haven’t written in a while, but the main reason behind that is probably because school has intensely heated up, I went on a five day vacation, and I somehow get to the end of each day wondering where it went. Bad organization of time? Certainly could be. Going to make it a point to try to start getting up earlier; 9:00 just doesn’t cut it, although it is very difficult due to living with four other people. One thing I’ve really come to learn/realize is that no, in fact, I do not function well without sleep. This includes my ability to speak a second (and third-Euskara) language. This needs to become my priority, but I can’t always control the noise decibel in my piso :(. Hmmmm…in the last fifteen days…..

Two weeks ago, I randomly made plans to visit a friend of a friend in Southern Spain. As I don’t have class on Fridays, and we were given Monday and Tuesday off of the following week due to Carnaval, I decided that I needed to treat myself to a vacation. So, after getting to know this friend-of-a-friend, Dave, through email, we decided to meet in Málaga. I know, I know, Mom, meeting someone I don’t know in a foreign country? My justifcation: better than traveling alone, and I trusted my friends from home J. Turns out, David’s grandmother lives in Southern Spain, in a town called Rota, which was just a short boat ride from Cádiz, where it just so happens that one of the most infamous Carnaval celebrations in Spain occurs each year. Perfect!

After class on Thursday, I booked it home, threw my way-over packed backpack on my back, and speed walked to the bus station, about fifteen minutes from my piso, in the part of Donosita called Amara. I boarded the bus, and immediately…..started doing homework. What’s wrong with teachers these days? Homework over vacation? A presentation, and two tests the day we get back? I just don’t understand teachers sometimes…………….:) Yet, I do. My bus ticket took me straight to the Bilbao Airport, dropped me off in front, and I checked my baggage into the Vueling Airline, and gave a half hearted attempt at doing more homework before boarding and sleeping the entire hour and half flight. Beautiful thing sleep is; and I can’t help but sleep in a moving vehicle, boat, plane, etc. It’s just innate I think.

I arrived at the Málaga Airport, hopped in a cab, and chatted up the driver on the way to Picasso’s Backpacker Hostal, the site where I would meet this mystery person that my mother was so dearly worried about. I immediately noticed the difference in the Andaluz accent from that of the Basque; something I’m not sure that I would have noticed before interestingly enough. Also, I found myself judging it; as if it weren’t as good as the Basque accent J. I guess I’m starting to look at things from the point of view that I am living here in the center of the Basque Country; turns out it’s a pretty great place. I arrived, and believe got overcharged by the oh-so-friendly cab driver, and checked into the hostal, awaiting Dave’s arrival.

After Dave arrived, we decided to get a bite to eat and get to know each other a little bit, as we’d be spending the next four days together. After a pretty early night, I was overjoyed to find that the top bunk that I had been so graciously left by the Canadian girl on the bottom, included an amazing down comforter. I am going to make an investment when I get home. If I ever go back to Málaga; I stay at this hostal. Sleeping in a room with three other strangers never was better. Got a great night’s sleep and ready for the next day’s adventures. The next day consisted of dodging the rain whenever possible. To do so, Dave and I visited the Cathedral, uhmm…wandered though it I mean, and snapped a few pictures. He got used to my excessive picture taking real quick. We then decided that yes, we did need to visit the Picasso museum, as this was his birthplace. However, as proved to be the theme of the weekend, we first got something to eat. We found a somewhat of a hole in the wall (we thought) until the server spoke English and so did every other person that came in. Oh well, we made it as Spanish as we could; ordering about five different raciones, splitting them, and chatting for about three hours. My favorite part of the meal? The snails J. Nothing like stabbing a snail with a toothpick, dragging it’s body out of its shell and then chewing it. Mmmmm. Really though, delicious!!!! The Picasso tour ended about an hour and a half later, when I decided I needed a nap. It was vacation, right? So, I napped before dinner (I told you we did some eating), and we found a place to eat near the hostal. Here…I had my first taste of Mexican food in a month-chips and guacamole! The night ended young; me with my earplugs and down comforter, snuggled away for a great nights sleep.

Saturday morning, as I fought with my gi-normous backpack that I didn’t need, and Dave diligently carted around his carry-on size rolling suitcase that I’m pretty sure included only two pairs of socks, a couple shirts and a lint brush, he demanded that we trade. I tried to refute, but he wasn’t having it. What a good friend. So, I rolled the suitcase with little in it, while he had thirty pounds on his back. We took a local bus to the airport where we had a rental car “awaiting us.” Or so we thought. Turns out, the reservation Dave had made somehow didn’t coincide with the company, and for sure we got overcharged, especially for the tiny little car that we ended up with. Regardless, we were on a mission to make it to Rota with enough time to catch the boat to Cadiz.

Turns out, our mission first was to find food; naturally. So, as we hit up the highway, we also hit up every closed restaurant at that time of the day. However, once we had pulled into a closed Burger King, we couldn’t get The King off the mind, and were set on fast food; however we could find it. Eventually about twenty minutes away, as we followed a two lane road through little beach towns, and fearing that we were lost, we came across and open Burger King. Shortly after, we found the highway. Only a slight detour though cute little towns. No big deal as we had our BK. It was good too..no lie, the chicken sandwich was legitimate.

After satisfying our hunger, we continued (without a map) to try to find the highway, which we eventually did, after driving through about five little resort towns that line the southern coast. Once we eventually made it to the highway, which didn’t included speed bumps and stop lights that we had been obeying for an hour, it was smooth sailing. The countryside was spectacularly green, and hilly, as one might imagine, with little white housed village dotting the landscape from time to time. We ended up passing though Cádiz, the site of the night’s future festivities, and ended up making it to Rota in just about three hours. Rota is a town of maybe 10,000 people maximum, which lays on the beach, and has a nice, quaint feel to it. We were welcomed to Dave’s Grandmother’s house with of course, lunch (snails again J). Homemade meals. I’ll take ‘em anytime I can. The house is a small three bedroom, open living room/dining room, and a tiny, tiny kitchen. Regardless, the whole family (aunts, uncles, cousins, grandmother, etc. ect-people Dave didn’t even know) were very hospitable, and I enjoyed speaking with them. However, we were on a mission to find me a costume, buy boat tickets, and be in Cádiz..in about two hours. The first costume shop we went to, opened at five and people were hovering around outside for the last minute costume. As the doors opened, I went straight to the fitting room while Dave’s cousin and friend shoved costumes in for me to try…we were on a time schedule. What do I end up with? A jester costume? Yeah. Probably could have found something a little more attractive, but I was considering the warmth factor. We headed over to Cádiz on the ferry at 7:30, meeting some other people that they knew. I certainly loved seeing everyone’s costumes, as Carnaval is like Mardi Gras in New Orleans, the big hoo-rah before the Lenten season begins. Or, through an American’s eyes, a huge Halloween in February. Regardless, we arrived with the masses to Cádiz, and first stop. Food stand-what else? This turned out to be a major theme of the evening; fries, hamburgers, doughnuts…etc. things that I would never eat on a regular basis. However, as per one of my instructors, it is the time to splurge….so, well, that’s what we did. We meddled in different plazas throughout the city for about ten hours, finding people everywhere we turned to speak with, and then buy some more food. We stumbled into one of the main plazas where there was a concert, but it was difficult to hear due to the sheer quantity of people that had packed the plaza. Then, we got more food. The costumes were something to be noted, as was the custom. Most groups of friends dressed up in the same store bought costume. Therefore, looking over one shoulder, we would see a group of six chickens, over the other, a group of ten soldiers, behind us, wolves, etc. Regardless of the costume, everyone’s intent was the same. Fun. Ten hours later, however, everyone’s intent was: sleep. But..the boat. We pushed and shoved our way back to the boat to ensure we would make the first one. Heavy eyes and Julie don’t mix. My first thought of bed was about three hours before, and I just can’t get that out of my mind when I know what I want.

Therefore, the 4pm wakeup the next day was insane, but understandable seeing how we didn’t get to bed until 7:30am. I don’t know if I can hang with Spanish hours. We woke up to another lunch J, and the bus station to Sevilla.

We arrived in Sevilla on the 14^th, and Dave met up with another friend, so I was able to treat myself to a Valentine’s dinner of Mexican food. My justification was that there are no Mexican places in Donostia, so I have to enjoy it when the opportunity arises. Then came the banana split….. (still had one more day before Ash Wednesday). Made it back to the room to call it an early night. Dave headed back to Rome the next morning, and I was able to awake, refreshed, and explore once again, the BEAUTIFUL city of Sevilla. I had been there before, in the heart of summer, battling 100 degree weather, and now, I was there in the middle of the worst downpour supposedly they had in like 70 years. Therefore, it was a necessity to buy another umbrella from the man standing outside of Starbucks. For 3 euro, it served me well.

I spent the day dodging the rain, and enjoying time to myself, time to do whatever I wanted to do. I spend several hours in the cathedral, with the largest square footage in the world. I have always been amazed the this cathedral, and had no problem sitting in a pew, saying a few prayers, zoning out, and soaking in my surroundings. This cathedral not only is mentioned in the Spanish textbook that I use in my classroom back home, but also holds the tomb of Christopher Columbus, and is the site of la Torre Giralda (which Maribel and company visit in the textbook). Of course then, I hiked up the Torre Giralda, taking pictures along the way at every window, and arriving at the top to view the city from above. The whole time, I was thinking of my students at home, and how now, I will be able to tell them that I’ve been there and have pictures to prove it. Somehow, I always revert back to them, and all of the new things I will be able to share with them.

After a solo day, filled with a traditional fish lunch, and then allowing myself to get lost in the city, so I would have to ask someone directions (which a really nice lady did, and we walked and talked for about 20 minutes), I once again tucked in for the night. After a Starbucks visit (in which I finished some of the homework I needed to do for the next day), I headed to the airport. The taxista was another overwhelmingly friendly man, and we conversed for about twenty minutes, as we drove through the town, and he pointed out all of the new things that had been built in Sevilla for the World’s Fair in 1992.

Hours of travel made me thankful to return “home” to Donostia, sleep in my own bed, and dedicated myself to setting a routine.

FLOW

Since the trip, I have started, and been consumed by a translation project for the movie documentary “FLOW” (WATCH IT!!!!!). To get graduate credits in one of my classes, two other girls, along with our teacher, program coordinator, and myself, are working together to translate a school curriculum from English to Spanish that will enable teachers in Spanish to integrate this movie into their classrooms. My piece is approximately 50 pages, and our goal is to have it done before spring break….which is about a month away. Although very tedious and demanding, I find it fun in a sick kind of way because of the intriguing topic, and the “puzzle” of figuring out what sounds the best. Although I have been working solely on this project alone for at least four hours a day for the past week, in addition to other homework that seems to get done at the last minute, I have enjoyed jumping in head first and letting it consume me; although it has been consuming my social life.

OUT AND ABOUT

As alluded to, I have not been able to do a whole lot except for translate, eat, sleep, and go to class, however I’ve managed to do a few things. I’ve been out to pinxtos again, where my friend Lisa and I were on a mission to find the same pinxtos bar because we NEEDED to try the mushroom pinxto again. After a half hour of wandering in Gros, we came upon the restaurant, and let it melt in our mouths. This dish is amazing and inexplicable in words; a large mushroom, with a creamy and sweet white sauce, drizzled over foie. We also found ourselves at Aloña Berri, which is mentioned in the New York Times article, “36 Hours in San Sebastian.” We split three pinxtos here. It is difficult to explain the delicacy of pinxtos until you have experienced them for yourself. They aren’t about eating fast and feeling full. They are about taste, conversation, and pure enjoyment. The owner of the restaurant gave us his recommendations, and they were delicious. I am unable to tell you what exactly we ate now, but I can tell you that the owner, and his waiters were very proud of their establishment, and were eager to share their art with us. We shall return again.

INTERCAMBIOS

I now have three intercambios, aka insta friends J. I met with María, the original, again on Saturday, where after a coffee and conversation, we went to a local fish market. It is the little things like this that make me realize how much I take for granted at home. I’d been in this market before, but without her explanation of what was occurring here. She looks at the market as an art, as I’ve learned all Basques do with food, and explained the filleting of the fish, and pointed out how each booth was decorated in their own way, with the fish on display. It really was quite beautiful.

I meet with my second intercambio tomorrow. And, last week, I got an email with information for another one. A third? Why not. So, Ugaitz and I met on Monday at a small café near the Zurriola Beach. He is a 24 year old who has recently graduated, and is in the process of looking for a job, possibly in Madrid, or possibly in San Sebastián. Our time was spent entirely in Spanish, as he says that he has other friends with whom he can speak English. This was fabulous for me; also was the fact that he speaks entirely way too fast, yet I understood every word he said. Anyways, he was easy to talk to and a very nice guy.

Guernika and Bilbao

Attached to the Guggenheim Museum-Bilbao
A bit of the industrial side of Bilbao
The Guggenheim Museum; view from the river
Cruising the Bilbao River
The port of Bilbao

The first USAC excursion: Guernika and Bilbao. Since high school, and the infamous Sr. Cole project of painting Picasso’s Guernica as a class, I have always regarded this painting as one of my favorites. At West Valley, I have a hand me down replica taking up half of a wall, and at my home in Corning, another replica I bought at the Reina Sofia in Madrid in 2000. Therefore, although some were less than enthusiastic about visiting the small town of Guernika, I was excited. Kinda funny how thinking changes in a ten-year span. History now intrigues me, excites me, and in a sense, solidifies the struggles and lives that we all live. I may have to thank my Dad for this, being the history buff that he is, and try to get him excited about a little Spanish history as well, as the country’s customs are rooted deep in their history, that for some reason is highly unknown or disregarded by those who are not Spanish citizens. Those who are, however, I would predict, don’t let a day pass without remembering, or at least doing something that is somehow related to the infamous Spanish Civil War.

With this said, our entire group opted for today’s excursion, meeting at the Hotel María Cristina, at 8:55 sharp for the bus to Guernika, situated about forty five minutes to an hour west of San Sebastian, in the Basque Country province of Bizcaya (San Sebastian is in the province called Gizpukoa). Most of us took advantage of the bus ride, to catch up on a few z’s that we’ve been struggling to find due to late nights, sickness, street noise, or the simple adjusting that is required during this experience. Upon arriving to Guernika (spelled in Basque, or Guernica in Spanish), our first stop was the infamous oak tree. An oak tree, famous? Let me briefly explain. The oak tree we visited is essentially the heart and soul of the entire Basque Country, symbolizing not only the Basque love and tremendous appreciation of nature, but also their region’s autonomy. The town’s Assembly House, or Casa de Juntas de Gernika, is adjacent to the oak tree. This small town of approximately eight thousand people is possibly the most meaningful in the Basque Country. Starting in the Middle Ages (I think), Guernika was the meeting place for the peoples of Biscay. These meetings were held under the Tree of Gernika and called the General Assemblies of Biscay. These meetings lasted for generations until 1876 when these laws, or fueros, were abolished, only to be uncovered again in 1979. In short, the leaders from all of the Basque provinces came to Guernika to establish the fueros. Strangely enough, even the king of Spain would come and acknowledge the fueros of the Basque Country, giving the region its political autonomy.

During Franco’s era, and in the midst of the Spanish Civil War (from 1936-39), he demonstrated his passionate hatred for the Basque people by attacking the heart and soul of the Basque Country, the small town of Guernika. Franco summoned his buddy over in Germany, Adolf Hitler, to assist in the attack, helping him to prep his own army for what was to come as well. This atrocity single handedly demonstrated the horrors of war, as upwards of 1600 civilians were killed. Civilians. It was not an attack against a military. He chose a Saturday morning, a day in which people would be on the streets, at the market, to attack. It is even said that the planes got so close to the streets, that people could see the faces of the pilots. When the incendiary bombs ran out, machine guns were used to kill everyone in sight.

Meanwhile, Pablo Picasso had been summoned to paint something for the World’s Fair in Paris. Feeling uninspired until he read about the attack on Guernika, he chose to demonstrate the grotesqueness and inhumanity of warfare, by representing the senseless bombing of Guernika in his black and white representation of the event.

Back to the bombing of Guernika. The interesting thing is that although devastating, the attack on Guernika did not destroy the actual symbol of the Basque; the oak tree under which the laws were created. Therefore, we visited a descendent of the original oak tree, and its successor, just in case something happens to it, in a small parque, or parkeoa (Basque/Euskara), near the Assembly House. In Elko, Nevada, there is also a descendent of the oak tree in Guernika, as well as in Boise, Idaho; both strong Basque communities in the United States.

After the hour-long visit to Guernika, we re-loaded the bus and took off for Bilbao. First stop in Bilbao, the historically industrial city of the Basque Country, McDonalds. I needed a small café, others indulged in McFlurrys, others in ice cream dropped in a cup of coffee. I took a few pictures of the menu for fun, just to note the differences J. We met up with the USAC group from Bilbao and hopped on a boat for a cruise and tour of Bilbao, until our final destination; lunch. We got to see the old industrial plants, mixed with the modern architecture of the city. Bilbao's current focus, instead of industrialism, is tourism , noted by the eye appealing Guggenheim Museum and the many parks and buildings that line the river.

Lunch consisted of, First plate: vegetarian paella (awesome!). Second plate: Chicken and French fries. Pretty standard for feeding a large group of American people. Dessert: a Flan/cake. Result=tired, full people ready for the tour of the Guggenheim!

I was excited about the visit to the Guggenheim, as I mentioned before, because I have a slightly different appreciation for museums now as opposed to a seventeen year old’s perspective J. Outside the museum is the famous puppy, or poopy as is said in Spanish, covered with pansies. Beautiful. On the backside of the museum, we saw the spider sculpture, created by a 91 year old woman! Insane! Inside we saw the Frank Lloyd Wright exhibit, and several others that I don’t remember the names of. But, on the top floor, there was art by Picasso, and The Yellow Cow! I laughed aloud at seeing this, and this is what adorns the wall above the TV at my parent’s house; my replica of The Yellow Cow. Kind of funny to me to happen to stumble upon the original. After about an hour at the Guggenheim, as we had a half an hour before leaving, we indulged in the daily “tea time.” As I’ve been trying to not use up too much Lactaid for fear of running out, I usually order a Café Americano (espresso with water, like what we drink at home), but because it’s not that great with just sugar, I went for the Café con Leche. Much nicer! Hopped back on the bus a half an hour later, tried to read to start on homework….and fell asleep! An early night ahead of me because tomorrow work MUST be done!

Biarritz, France, and more!

A sample of the home structures in France
Typical trees of this region....I find them fascinating-Biarritz
Mary, Rachel, myself, and Laura-Biarritz
Biarritz, France
Biarritz, France

1/29/10

After just about three weeks, I am beginning to no longer feel like a tourist in this town, yet someone who lives here. I am learning the names of (some) restaurants, streets, plazas, bus numbers, and can somewhat fumble my way through directions using the proper names. I’ve got a few more categories of information I’d love to share this week!

Mi trabajo:

As a person coming from a 24 hour a day, do something at all times because you have so much to do, and never rest because that’s only what you do at night if you can-culture (or maybe that’s just my life? J), having downtime can be somewhat challenging. Therefore, I’ve looked for some things to keep myself busy, and no, I cannot remember the last time that thought even crossed my mind! As an exchange student, we are allowed to work either babysitting or teaching English, and USAC helps to hook us up with a job. On Tuesday, I sent Aizpea, one of the office staff, an email inquiring about an internship and a job. On Wednesday, I was starting my job! All I was told was that I would be working with a 9 year old Basque girl named Helene from five to eight on Wednesday night. THREE HOURS????? Almost my nightmare, to have to entertain a child for three hours…..so needless to say, I was a little hesitant going in. Upon arrival at their piso, about three or four blocks from school, I met Xavier, Helene’s father who gave me a quick introduction to Helene and their home before asking me if I’ve been told what I’m going to do with her. My first thought is..ummm…what do you mean, “what I am going to do with her?” Not a clue. So he, in English, although we spoke mostly Spanish after that, politely told me that I was going to walk her to English class at 5:30 and pick her up at 6:30 when I would walk her to Ballet class at 6:30 and pick her up at 7:30 and then accompany her back to their piso and wait until about 8:00 when the mother got hom. SWEET! My type of job! So, after a five minute speed introduction, Xavier left me with Helene…which, thinking about later was pretty trustworthy! I’m not sure that I would leave my child with a complete stranger only after five minutes!

Helene is a sweet habladora (talker!) that has no problem speaking in English, Spanish, or Basque (if I had that talent as well). As we walked from place to place, she asked me questions about my home, animals, and sports. She loves to ride horses, although she doesn’t get the opportunity very often, and she loves cats and dogs. Also…she is a fanatic of Miley Cyrus and her brother loves Kobe Bryant! Then, the topic of sports came up, as I had seen some basketballs in their home. She told me that her Dad works for the television, and is a commentator for the local professional basketball team. EXCUSE ME? Did you just say that? Oh, and not to forget that he went to Beijing to cover basketball and tennis as well. This is where I realize that I got in with a great family J.

While Helene worked on her English skills, I indulged in a tea from a nearby café, and tried to complete some homework; while she was at ballet, I went to another café and completed my homework. Nothing like killing two birds with one stone. When we arrived back to her home about 8:00….no one was there yet, so she started on her homework, we played a Miley Cyrus video game, and listened to some of her music. The clock ticked, and ticked, and ticked, and ticked until 9:00 rolled around and her Dad arrived again, shocked that the Mom was not home yet. He apologized immensely, and then paid me for the fourth hour as well. I was fine, walking away with fourty euro…for doing this? It almost feels like stealing!

Mi intercambio:

Another way for us to get involved in the Spanish culture and become more integrated into the daily lives of those around us is to choose to have an intercambio, or exchange partner where we essentially “exchange ideas,” or English and Spanish. Last Friday, I got to meet my intercambio, María. I sent her a picture por email so it wouldn’t be too awkward meeting at the cathedral when we are both looking around for some stranger. She showed up, and without trying to be too obvious, we both kind of gave each other the head nod signifying, “this is you, right?” Maria is 34 years old and studying to be an elementary school teacher. I think that she worked in something else before, but decided to go back to school. We went to one of her favorite cafes, because of the jazz music and atmosphere found inside, and spent several hours over one cup of coffee. Another example of the sobremesa. We spent the first hour or so speaking in Spanish; I got to ask her a lot of questions about the Basque Country and their customs, and what are good things to do around these parts of the country. We then finished the last hour or so in English, in which I noticed a transition in myself. I was able to be more expressive, and I felt as though I “lit” up and was more myself. Goal #1: By the end of the trip, I want to have the same “personality” in Spanish as I do in English. I actually intrigued myself with this discovery because although I was very confident and thought I did a good job with my Spanish….it is always much more natural with the native language. I even felt myself smiling more, noting the physical change as well. During the conversation, I discovered that María is studying to become a teacher, but she also does voice dubbings as well for movies and radio. She is from a small town outside of SS, is single, and lives here now in San Sebastián. We talked extensively about her recent trip to Egypt….which is on my top five list….and gets my mind spinning, among many other things. We are going to try to get together at least once a week after next week because she has final exams. Looking forward to getting to know her more, and through her, more about the language/s (she speaks Basque too), and culture as well.

Monte Urgall:

A few girls and I hiked, or rather walked, would be a more appropriate term, to the infamous Monte Urgall, or Jesus statue, that overlooks Donostia. With precious views of the entire city, it really became apparent once reaching the top, that I am living in a uniquely beautiful city. I would not guess that mountains surround beach towns in many cities of the world. Stunning. Gorgeous. This, I vow, will be my refuge when needed once the weather improves a bit. Not only is the view impressive, but there is an extensive museum for those history buffs, or those who try to be (huhmmm….me) on top of the mountain. I am looking forward to returning by myself at some point to spend some time reading and absorbing the history of this place I now call home (for a few months…).

Doctor:

After a few days of sniffling, not tasting food, and hacking up a lung, I decided to visit the doc. Mostly, it was not tasting what I was eating that killed me (and my Mom’s encouragement) One of the office staff, Aizpea, accompanied me just to make sure that I knew what was happening. Turns out, I can definitely hold my own at the doctor, but I was glad she was there. Would have been a little sketch to show up to some random doctor’s office, not in a hospital, where upon entering there was a curtain a desk with books lining the shelves, two chairs, and a patient’s bed. Kinda creepy thinking about it, but the doctor himself seemed like a nice guy. If necessary, I would go again on my own. After a little questioning, and taking of the temperature (under the armpit?-apparently I didn’t have it positioned correctly the first time…um, it’s been about 25 years since I’ve had my temperature read under my armpit haha), he determined that I simply had a catarro, or the common cold. Although convinced I had a sinus infection, what was I to say? Aizpea and I took the prescription to the pharmacy nearby, and on the way she told me that he was a unique doctor in that he doesn’t like to prescribe antibiotics. So, two days later when I was in France, and still couldn’t breathe or taste, I bought a decongestant that has helped although I still have coughing fits every once in a while. Feeling good though!

Biarritz, France:

And the travels begin! In the year 2000, when I first visited San Sebastián with Señor Cole and the rest of the Corning crew, we took a little side trip to a town in France called Biarritz, France. Ten years later, I find myself there again. However, this time with just three other gals from the U.S., and in the midst of a storm! We left San Sebastián, buying our bus tickets on the bus itself for just under seven euro, and relaxed while turning through each round-about and weaving our way down the road along the coast for about an hour and ten minutes. Immediately, it was evident that we were in a different country because of the architecure. On the French side, I would describe them as more of the stereotypical French Chalet style, with window shutters outlining the windows of the white plastered homes, residing on rolling green hills along the coast of the Bay of Biscay. We arrived in Biarritz and immediately determined that yes, we needed to indulge in some French delacacies. Breakfast was consumed at a pastry type restaurant where I officially ate my first real French Crossiant, being happy to at least taste one bite, and realizing that it was really pointless to continue eating if I couldn’t enjoy. However, with my food addiction, I couldn’t cut myself off, but rather, I needed to search for some decongestant medication. After spending a good hour an a half at the little restaurant reminiscent of a Victorian mansion, decorated in pink velour, we decided to brave the town because the weather had succeeded a bit. Exploring we did. Getting cought in a storm, we did. Soaking our shoes, but advancing on, we did!!! Stopping for a café in a small restaurant, only to spend another hour and a half, we did!!! Searching for Mary’s special soap, we did! The other three girls, crazily walking along they beach, they did! I, looking like a terrorist with my scarf wrapped around my face and ears, watched from the boardwalk, and tried to stay dry. We ended up at the far end of the beach, and decided that we wanted to return back to more of the “town” part, by taking the stone tunnel that ran along the water. Cool! Until we had to run through it because the waves were splashing in it. When I made the decision, as I do when I make decisions, I made it and ran. Literally! The other three girls were caught laughing at how fast I ran because I booked it through the tunnel, timing the wave, so as to not get drenched. Although out of breath upon arriving on the opposite side, I was dry! (Kind of). So, what to do after that? Return to the restaurant where we enjoyed our café so much, and eat lunch! This, this was impressive. The first meal in several days I could taste; the decongestant worked! I ordered an omelette style dish, with French fries. Delish! Therefore, although the weather was not in our favor, we got to dabble in the beautiful resort (hence, best in the summer) town of Biarritz, France! J

NOTE: One of my teachers, Mari Mar, explained the difference in culture to us between Spain and France. She noted that in France, not as many people are seen on the streets walking, drinking coffee, reading the paper, etc. Es decir, the French are more closed off than the Spanish people. This didn’t become evident to me until returning to San Sebastian, where although raining just like it had in Biarritz, the first thing I noticed were the hundreds of umbrellas covering the sidewalks. PEOPLE! We saw nearly no one in Biarritz out and about….interesting observation Mari Mar!