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!

La Tamborrada

Closing ceremonies in la Plaza de la Constitucion
San Sebastian is a candidate for the cultural capital of Europe in the year 2016
Plaza de la Constitucion
Los cocineros
Mas cocineros
All ages involved!
Erica (italiana), Raiz, Ana (espanolas), Eli (italiana), me
Can't talk, but can play the drums! :)
The "women" and the cooks
One of the two water fountains; one of the parades ended here

Getting in on the action!

Cooks
The Basque Flag
Viva Donostia!
One of the "French soldiers"
Cocinero statue outside of a bank

Possibly a once in a lifetime opportunity; estar en San Sebastián/Donostia the 19^th and 20^th of January. An annual festival, entitled La Tamborrada, or Damborada en Euskara (Basque) is rooted deep in the history of the Basque population in Donostia. A brief, brief history of the celebration:

In 1597 a plague swept through San Sebastián, and the townspeople prayed to Saint Sebastián for an end to the disease that was wiping out their population. A possible miracle-the plague ended, and the people promised to celebrate the saint’s day on January 20^th, to give thanks to Saint Sebastián. At the time, Donostia was a walled city with a fort inhabited by the French Army; therefore, the people worked in shipping and commerce, living in a military style environment. Only two sources of agua, Kanoletan and Koxkax, were available for the women, cooks, and soldiers. Therefore, a line was formed everyday in which people filled their barrels with water to cook from the two fountains in the city. As you can imagine, the lines were long and cumbersome, and what does one do when bored? Sing, and “play the drums,” or the barrels with ladels. The story says that the women and chefs/bakers played tunes on their wooden barrels, not only because it was fun, but to urge those who were filling their barrels to hurry up! The French soldiers would respond to the noise, by joining along and somewhat “answering” the call with their own beat. And this is how la Tamborrada came to be, also symbolizing the first day of Carnaval, and the opening of the sidra houses (cider houses), or simply marking the springtime, an era of celebration while honoring Saint Sebastián.

After a spaghetti dinner at some classmates’ house, a group of about ten of us headed downtown to partake in the festivites, as this was the “homework” assigned to us by our professors. The opening ceremonies started at midnight on the 19^th in Plaza de Constitución, and lasted about a half an hour. As the plaza is fairly small and enclosed, after attempting to fight out way through only about four steps before being pushed, we decided to just give up and hang out with people on the street as to not get trampled. The streets of the Parte Vieja, the old sector of town, were filled with infants to elders, singing the song of San Sebastián, eating, drinking, and socializing. I am convinced that every person in the city was celebrating in some form or another, and the streets were jam packed with gente feliz. The ambiente was like something I have never experienced, as I have never witnessed such passion for heritage and tradition. The colors of the celebration, blue and white, adorned doorways and windows throughout the city, while different societies, or groups of people, dressed as either cooks or French soldiers, and marched around the city, playing their drums (French soldiers) or wooden barrels. These different groups played throughout the twenty-four hours, each one playing for about an hour each. Our instructors told us that we should not plan on sleeping because we would not be able to because of the drumming that would be shaking our heads….but that was a bit of an exaggeration; they did play for twenty four hours, but not continuously in every neighborhood. Spectators also participated in the festival, purchasing our own plates or drums and drumsticks, and following the beat of the certain songs the groups were playing. This lasted well into the night, roaming the streets, speaking Spanish, and essentially become a San Sebastian-ite for a night!

At about 7:30 am, I could no longer stay awake, and headed home with my roommates for a few hours rest before heading out to enjoy the next ten hours. Two of my Spanish roomies, two of their Italian friends, and another of their friends from Barcelona, and I bought bocadillos de tortilla de patata (potato/egg omelete sandwich-typical Spanish food), and headed down to the port to enjoy a bit of sunshine and eat our lunch. This must have been the hour of siesta/rest up for the big push through the rest of the day, because there weren’t many people out and about. However, we ended up finding and adolescent parade that we followed, drumming along with them for about an hour and then an adult one as well before attending the closing ceremonies. The closing ceremonies lasted for about an hour. We claimed our space early to ensure a spot close to the stage, and did the typical dancing and even some singing in Basque, as people did the congo around the plaza, chanted in between songs, and imitated those on stage as they tapped their drumsticks together and frolicked. Those who were fortunate, were able to observe from the balconies of the apartments in the plaza. Basque flags honoring the festival hung from balconies, and interestingly enough, no Spanish flags or colors were present, to me, making the statement that this was a BASQUE, San Sebastian festival. The Tamborrada expemlifies one of the reasons I have fallen in love with not only the Spanish culture, but the Basque culture as well.

Una semana en Donostia

Less sleep, late nights, architecture, stairs, dos besitos, fashion, tranquilidad, pedestrian streets, café, pinxtos, lights, laughter; pura belleza. Spanish life: simple, sweet, enjoyable, passionate-sensorial.

I have observed in and attemped to live a week of pure beauty for life, in an attempt to absorb it all. Adapting to the lifestyle as an American, set in my ways is a different story. I am still adjusting to the normalcy of getting to bed between midnight and six am in the morning, while awaking between eight and one. Routine has not yet been established, and that’s okay; when in Rome…or Donostia (San Sebastián in Basque). I tried to convince myself today that I needed to start to get myself into a sleeping routine but then realized that this week is already shot starting tomorrow, the 19^th of January. More to come on the Tamborrada later, but in short, it is a 24 hour celebration honoring Saint Sebastian starting tomorrow at midnight and lasting until the 20^th at midnight. School is cancelled; the fun begins…or should I say continue?

This last week was reminiscent of the beginning of any uniting of strangers. Start as strangers, and with time, become friends. I have found myself pleasantly surprised and gratified each day no matter whom I am around. I am relieved to know that my fellow study-abroaders (USACers) are sincere in their efforts to learn and desire to acquire knowledge about the environment we are in. Thinking about it, having the guts to leave everything familiar and jump two feet in to the unknown, merits respect for any person regardless of age, objective, or former location. With that said, I can safely say that my Facebook website is now filled with many USAC “friends.”

A few anecdotes and fun facts from this past week:

Cell phones: Prepaid cell phones suck-plain and simple. That is when Facebook comes in handy. When calling someone, no one really wants the other person to answer because they will get charged. Many people have already run out of their minutes and have had to re-charge.

Mass:

I attended mass at the Buen Pastor Cathedral on Sunday night; the huge cathedral a block from my apartment, whose bells I hear chiming on the hour. The mass was difficult to understand due to the microphone echo, and there was only a first reading and then the gospel. There was no second reading. The collection was done using green satchel bags. Communion was disbursed by four different people, with the congregation forming fairly neat lines. The population was probably 90% over 80 years old. Sorry Mom, not any good Catholic boys for me yet. J There are five masses offered on Sundays: 3 in Castellano (Spanish), 1 in Basque, and 1 bilingual Basque/Spanish.

Multilingualism:

The intertwining of Basque (in English), Vasco (in Spanish) or Euskara (in Basque) combined with Spanish, Castellano/Español, _______ (don’t know how to say “Spanish” in Basque) in conjunction with hanging around some English friends creates a unique environment (and confusion). As previously mentioned, in Donostia/San Sebastián, it is appreciated by the locals to make an attempt at speaking Euskara especially when greeting people or dismissing yourself, no matter where you are from, with the sandwich of information between the greeting/dismissal in Spanish. I am taking a Basque class, and I am finding myself questioning whether to translate the Basque words into Spanish or English when making my flashcards. In class, Natalia, mi profesora uses a combination of Spanish, English and Euskara during instruction. The language is difficult, but rooted deep in history, with the people displaying an incredible passion for their region and culture. All street names, posted on the sides of the buildings, are in Spanish on one side of the street, and in Euskara on the other. For example, I leave on Calle Fuenterrabía (Spanish) or Hondarrabía (Basque). All traffic signs are in both Spanish and Euskara, with the Euskara font being slightly different than that of its Spanish counterpart.

The city layout:

Donostia/San Sebastián, as previously mentioned, is a street-walkers paradise-easy to navigate and highly traveled by foot. Nights are filled with window shopping, especially at this time of year with the many “rebajas” (discounts/sales), by both men and women, young and old. My apartment is right above the smaller of the two Zara stores located within a block of each other. Where I live, el Centro, shopping is the main attraction. In la Parte Vieja, bars and restaurants run the neighborhood. Gros is a newer barrio that I haven’t explored too much except to find a blow dryer on my way to join a gym. Ah, with that mentioned, I’ve joined at gym that is about a ten minute walk from my apartment. I received a gym membership card and paid about eighty dollars for a membership through May. Although fairly small and stocked with about ten weight machines, ten bikes, and ten stair steppers/cross trainers; it also has a pool. I figured this would be a great option on those rainy days, and/or for meeting people….hmmm…or guys like the one today that I swear was following me to every lift. Certainly could have been my imagination however, haha.

Italian Friends:

Along with my amazing Spanish roommates who I hung out with this weekend, our apartment is the “study house” for their friends as well. I’ve found it interesting speaking especially with two Italian students/friends because although Spanish is neither of our native language, we are all understood by the others. They seem to have a good grasp on the speaking, because of the similarity to their native language. It’s amazing to see what language can do to unite people. Even within our USAC group, we try our best to speak Spanish to each other. Fascination I tell you, to be able to communicate with people from around the world.

A hurricane?

This story must be told. As I mentioned, I sauntered through the light rain to the gym in Gros on Friday, already knowing that I was going to join the gym. However, as I continued walking, the quantity of rain started to increase. Luckily, I pulled out my awesome purple plaid umbrella and used it to combat the drops soaking my blue jeans, and continuing to fill my shoes. Upon arrival and registration at the gym, my return mission was to find a blow dryer that I saw in a shop window on the way. I succeeded in this endeavor, however this was one of the only successes of the day. The wind and rain continually pounded me as I fought with my umbrella, turning itself inside out until I finally gave up, entered the Kutxa bank, caught my breath and threw the umbrella in my backpack. I’d have to do this alone-without the umbrella. I only had about five blocks to go. I could do it. Determination. Crossing the street after hightailing it out of the bank, my blowdryer fell in the middle of the street because the paper bag it was in has become so soggy that it flat out ripped. Luckily I was crossing with a green light, stooped to pick it up, and was nearly knocked over by a gust of wind. No turning back now; I was on the bridge. I found myself, knees bent in an athletic football stance fighting the wind, while other people gripped the side of the bridge for stability. Umbrellas fluttered and flew against any building as they escaped the hands so dearly trying to cling onto them. Although I had a pretty solid stance I felt, I tried to make it to grab the bridge, when a huge gust of wind pushed me toward the street corner…and an oncoming car. I had no option but to grab onto the light pole that stood between me and the street. So, there I stood, like an idiot, grabbing onto a light pole, but thank goodness for that!!!!!! The rest of the trip home consisted of popping into door entryways every block to take a “break.” Needless to say, by the time I got to school later in the day, my backpack had been open, books wet, pants soaked, and took a little “detour” on the bus route to school. It’s all a part of the adventure folks, and not to worry; it WAS an abnormal weather day!! J

Primer dia de clases

Waking up today, besides having blood speckle out my nose every time I blow it because it is so dried out from second hand cigarette smoke, I was excited about the school adventure that layed ahead. Of course I was anxious too, but I felt very confident in my abilities after hearing from so many people that I speak very well. I don’t feel the same, but I’ve been doing a decent job of coming out of my shell. I’ve learned that you don’t say, “Cómo está?” to a stranger that you are meeting because that implies that you really want to know, and that you know them. Instead, addressing them with “Buenas” is just fine J, which is contrary to what we do in the States when asking people how they are just to continue walking along and not expecting an answer. After a delicious breakfast with some cereal that I love paired with soy milk (yes!), I put on my walkin’ shoes and headed for the beach. The forty minute walk to school is along la Concha, lined with leafless trees, and una vista increíble. I felt so at peace with the walk because of the surroundings. There were joggers, viejos speed-walking, and many women pushing strollers with plastic wrapped around them because of the rain. I have seen many women with babies since being here, and their strollers are reminiscent of those I would imagine they use in England; buggy style. It was about 11 degrees C, which meant I was pretty warm when I got to school after layering up with a long sleeved shirt, a blazer, topped with a jacket, plus a scarf and gloves. But, better safe than sorry! My first experience with Euskara, or Basque, came this morning when I went to buy paper at the papelería. I greeted the man with “Buenos días” as I placed the paper on the counter. He replied in Basque and when I looked stumped, he asked me another question in Basque. He was then stumped because he thought I said something in Basque. When I finally unfroze, I told him I spoke Spanish. He got a great laugh out of it and said that it is so difficult because he doesn’t know which language to ever speak because some people speak Basque, others Spanish, and some even English. Those who do speak Basque prefer to speak it over Spanish, but those who are not Basque, don’t know a lick of it. And, only the younger generations speak English. Therefore, the confusion begins and the crossover between the cultures becomes evident.

After the brisk walk that I have been considering my “exercise” (sad, I know), I arrived at the campus just in time to feel the nerves a comin’ because I didn’t really know what to expect. After finding my first class, Contemporary Spanish Theatre of the Twentieth Century, I was relieved to meet my teacher, Mari Mar, and, well….no one else! I am the only student in this class. However, I am so happy that she is my profesora because she seems as though she is one of the nicest people I will ever meet in my life. She has a twenty four year old daughter, a husband, is blonde and fashionable, and expressed to me her desire to help me learn. As when meeting Adri and Ana, I felt an immediate connection and my affective filter was lowered just by her actions and sincerity. Because I was the only student, we talked about ourselves and then about the class for a little over an hour. Although demanding, I can’t imagine my Spanish not improving with this one-on-one teacher/student ratio. After this class, I attended three classes with the same profesora, Natalia, who I would guess is in her late twenties or early thirties. She is unmarried, and earned her doctorate from UNR but is Basque. She grew up speaking Basque at home, learned Spanish in school, and then learned English in the United States. The first class was the Basque Culture and Language that I will be taking simply out of interest in the Basque Culture, the second was Advanced Spanish I, and the third was Seminario. I am going to have an awfully difficult schedule, but that is my ultimate goal; to be challenged to learn the language. I felt the excitement brewing after Natalia told us that the Seminario class would take us to a near-native level because it is in preparation for a national examination. I am willing to work for the result!!!!!!

In an attempt to return to a normal type routine, my friend Lisa and I went to the cell phone store to try our luck at getting a “movil.” Fortunately, a former student who had used my bedroom left behind a phone, but all I needed to get was a sim card to charge to make it work! Sin embargo…I needed my passport and wasn’t about to walk home and back. It’s kind of nice at times to escape the cell phone epidemic, but would be useful for making plans to meet up with people from class.

My class schedule is as follows:

Mondays:

11:00-12:20 Spanish Theatre

12:30-1:50 Basque Language and Culture

2:10-3:40 Advanced Spanish I and II

Tuesdays:

2:10-3:40 Advanced Spanish I and II

Wednesdays:

11:20-12:20 Spanish Theatre

12:30-1:50 Basque Language and Cutlure

2:10-3:20 Advanced Spanish I and II

3:30-4:50 Spanish Seminary

Thursdays:

2:10-3:20 Advanced Spanish I and II

3:30-4:50 Spanish Seminary

Fridays:

NO CLASS!

A Basque Lesson:

Kaixo: Hello (the “x” is pronounced “sh”)

Ni Julie naiz: My name is Julie

Eta zu? And you?

Agur! Goodbye!

Oso ongi! Very good

Bai Yes

Ez No

Eskerrik asko! Thank you!