So it´s definitely been a while since my last entry in this here bloggy thing. A couple things that I´ve come to realize about España:
1. Blondes do not blend in
2. Guys feel no hesitation whatsoever to stare at you if you for some reason catch their attention which sucks because (see no. 1) - which also means a lot of cat calls and for some odd reason, Spaniards also tend to hiss (why they think this will capture my attention in a positive way, I have no idea)
3. You´d like to think that all Europeans (and Spaniards included) have good fashion sense, which is true for a decent piece of the population, but the remainder of the population doesn´t seem to own a mirror or have the capability of differentiating between colors and textures
4. Spaniard (the men) automatically have something about their physical appearance that makes them just that much hotter than any guy you´d find in the States (too bad I´m currently disenchanted with them at the moment - ask me and I´ll tell you why)
5. Spanish college courses make my life because they´re so lax
6. Despite the fact that the streets of Toledo make no sense whatsoever, it´s impossible to truly lose yourself within the city - it´s just made frustrating by the amount of hills that exist within the city that cause a horrible burning sensation in muscles you never knew existed
7. There´s never a lack of new things to be discovered in this city - every vista off the edge of the city is beyond description
I´m sure I´ll come up with more over the rest of the time I´m here, but I just thought I´d share these with you for now. In the meantime, I´ll let you guys into my memory for a post that´s a little bit outdated at this point.....
________________________________________________________________________________
Sábado, el 7 de febrero 2009
Amor se mueve el alma.
So let´s see what I´ve failed to blog about over the past week and a half?
Maybe make that 2 weeks. I guess I kind of suck at this, but oh well.
Aside from my serious kick ass schedule that only requires me to go to class 3 days a week (granted the classes are awkwardly spaced throughout the course of each of these days) and gives me 4 day weekends, there´s been a couple new developments. Last weekend, I actually made it down South to hit up Sevilla and Córdoba, a trip that ended up costing roughly half of what the school wanted for a trip they have planned for march to Córdoba and Granada for 220 Euro. Granted, the cities may have been altered a little bit, but given how much traveling I plan to do after this semester is up, I´ll have to opt for the cheaper of the two.
I´ve definitely been finding that buses are the way to go as far as travel goes around here. This being said, we hopped a bus last Thursday night from Toledo to Madrid, from where we caught our midnight bus headed for Sevilla, but only after having had to sort through not having printed out our tickets ahead of time. With a little bit of confusion on my end and the ticket man´s, I managed to schmooze him into just looking us up and figuring it out for us. After which, two other obvious Americans asked for our help trying to get their tickets, as they spoke little to no Spanish at all, despite the fact that they are both studying in Madrid (an English speaking university…). So after meeting the two who turned out to be Joel and Brandon, we popped a squat to pass the time until we had to head out for Sevilla and them for Cadíz.
Our bus ride ended up being a 7 hour ride, which I failed miserably at sleeping during. It consisted of a first 3 hours with me sitting in one of the first seats, right across from the driver, during which he constantly would creepily peek at me every 5 minutes. He seemed friendly enough with the offer of changing the music to something I wanted, giving me a piece of gum, checking to see if I was cold and what not, but having a bus driver that interested in you when all you want to do is sleep is slightly upsetting. Especially when he blatantly asks how old I am, refuses to tell me his age, and then tells me I´m cute. Ok, so maybe I´m not giving him enough credit because he was on the younger side, kind of cute, really nice, but when all I want to do is sleep, it just doesn´t work that way. The other half of the trip was spent in a weird limbo after we switched drivers at a pit stop, where we ran into Joel again because Brandon was asleep on the bus, and after getting on the bus again, I couldn´t sleep – so at this point I´m running on 4 hours of sleep?
6 am rolls around and we get to Sevilla. Despite the fact that we´re all miserable, tired, hungry, and cold, the eerily foggy Sevilla definitely had a charm to it. A charm that I doubt can be found anywhere else in the states. We hit up an absolutely adorable café when it finally opened – we honestly managed to find it because we could smell them baking their bread and other delectable delights. So delicious. We hit up our hostel, that was actually an apartment, completely decked out courtesy of IKEA, tiny, but cozy, despite the ants that we later found were also sharing it with us for the 2 nights we were there.
4 hours of sleep and we spent the next 12 hours meandering the streets of Sevilla. We managed to hit up the Cathedral (the biggest Gothic church in all of Europe and the 3rd biggest cathedral in all of Europe/the world? Something like that at least), orange-tree lined streets, a little shop where you buy baked goods made by nuns, our local grocery store for some baguettes, the alcazar, a heladería where I got some amazing apple sorbet, the University of Sevilla (it used to be the tobacco factory/palace – absolutely an amazing place to go to school), and essentially all the other whimsical places you could possibly see in Sevilla.
The next morning after passing out after the best spaghetti dinner I´ve ever had, we caught the train to Córdoba. And much like mi mama said, there really wasn´t that much to it, minus the most amazing cathedral/mosque I´ve ever laid eyes on. The Catedral/Mequita de Córdoba is honeslty like nothing you´ll ever find anywhere else. It began as a Roman temple of sorts (there are still some remaining Roman mosaics to be seen), was turned into a church by the Visigoths afterwards, taken over by the Muslims when they came – destroyed – rebuilt as a mosque using some of the Visigoth materials, then taken over by the Christians after the Reconquista/Repoblación who then built a cathedral in the middle of it. So essentially what you have is a stunning example of a mosque with all the Muslim/Arab architecture, with a cathedral dome smack dab in the middle, numerous chapels throughout the building, Muslim arches that encompass Christian icons, artwork from 3 different eras of Spain, and just a perfect melding of Christianity and Islam. It´s something that´s existed for so much longer than the United States has even existed (like a lot of things have), and I honestly think that there was more culture melded into this one building than there will ever be back home. It´s just astounding some of the stuff you can manage to find over here that you can´t back home.
I love it.
The rest of Córdoba: the old Jewish quarter, trying to grumpily find a market to get some cheap-ass lunch, crossing the Roman Bridge, seeing the most astounding gardens/fountains I´ve seen in a while in el Alcazar, meandering the streets of Córdoba, and eventually catching the train back to Sevilla.
We actually ended up getting a call from our good ol´ buddy Joel on the way back, saying that they´d actually ended up in Sevilla for the night and wanted to meet up – this slowly progressed into one of the most whimsical nights I´ve ever had. After heading back to the apartment and cleaning up, we headed out to meet up with the two boyos (so painfully American, it ranged from being endearing to god-awful), to find out they´d already downed a fifth of vodka between the two of them. So while Joel could still hold an intelligent conversation, Brandon was boisterous, annoying-almost-sweet, and horribly American as sin. After we finally find a decent restaurant after bumbling around for what feels like forever, it begins to downpour like none other right as we start eating our Tapas. After having nitched the idea of going to a 30 Euro flamenco show, half the girls were dying to find this certain Flamenco Bar, which ended up being doomed from the start, as we spent the next 2 hours wandering the city aimlessly asking for a certain plaza, only to find it at the end and not find anything along the lines of what Rick Steve´s had said in his ill-fated passage of Sevilla.
We finally sat down at a little café for a drink before they closed and the other half of the group headed back for the night and Julia, Joel, Brandon, and I met up with some other Americans studying in Sevilla. With our now extremely large group we managed to discover possibly the cutest bar/café that I´ve ever seen (honestly just a hole in the wall). ¨hiding from the rain¨ ended up being Brandon taking 6 shots of some delectably sweet caramel vodka and trying to get everyone else to join him. And so we closed our second bar of the night and headed back out into the rain, which is where the whimsy started.
I don´t know the right word for it, but on leaving the bar we ran into a group of what can be identified as a Spanish-style Mariachi band, all of them with drink in hand and the most jovial of spirits. Without anywhere specific as our goal, we linked arms with the meandering musicians, and, sharing our umbrellas to hide from the rain, we walked until we found a plaza that was essentially deserted save for the bar in the far corner that seemed brimming with people. Essentially we ended up crashing someone´s party of some sort (we came to the assumption that it was an anniversary or sorts). There were people crowded in like no one´s business, all centered around another group of musicians who were already there. So whilst the band struck up all sorts of Spanish folk songs, everyone (I mean everyone) clapped and sang along, free drinks were passed around, old men engaged us in political talk and praise of Obama, Julia and I snatched free bananas from the banquet tables along the walls, and we got a taste of a real Spanish gathering as we danced, sang, chatted, and laughed at the ludicrousness of the situation. We didn´t belong there and we knew it, but at the same time it honestly felt like we were absorbed into the Spanish culture.
After having been awake for God only knows how many hours, Julia and I finally decided to sever ourselves from the gathering and managed to find our apartment in record time despite the flooding streets of Sevilla, our exhaustion, and the weird floating sensation that kept me from reality. So whimsical, I don´t even think I really did it justice here.
So as of right now, that´s the extent of my exciting stories. But with plans to go to Valencia, Barcelona, Cadíz for Carnaval, and the French Riviera for Spring Break, I have a feeling I´ll be putting up more tales for your entertainment.
You stay classy, Planet Earth.
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
A little bit more than your normal jetlag
Sábado, el 24 de enero 2009
“These habits are so hard to break, and they’re so easy to make”
So, seeing as I have no internet at my house, save for the rare weekend where I can steal someone else’s unprotected wireless connection, I’m just going to stick to keeping you guys posted from an offline standpoint. Deal? Good.
As part of our homestay deal during the semester here, we get a bus pass included with the program so that we can get to and from the school from the various barrios de Toledo. I’ve actually figured out though that by walking, I live only 25 minutes away from el Casco. Granted, it’s a bit more with the walking distance to la Fund from Plaza Zocodover, which is the main plaza in the center of el Casco. Walking seems to help with absorbing the fact that I’m really here in the historical capital of Spain. But, no matter how many times in a day I walk to and from el Casco, it all just still seems so surreal. Just thinking about it all seems so bizarre. I essentially walk up the mountain that Toledo is built on, and, trust me, I’ll have the thighs to show it, it’s a bit of a climb. I cross el Río Tajo, the longest river in Spain, and meander up towards the main entrance through the walls that have surrounded Toledo for more years than the U.S. has existed. The main road takes me past all sorts of buildings that were at one point inhabited by the Muslims, Visigoths, or any of the other groups that held Toledo at one point or another over the past hundreds of years. Even today, just walking around in the Casco, seeing where the roads can take you, there’s so much history to the city that it’s almost beyond a single person’s grasp. Which makes everything SO bizarre.
While I still can’t seem to wrap my head around it, I can almost tell that I’m starting to get really comfortable with where I am. And while that is a good thing, it kind of makes me worry a little bit. I just have the irking feeling that I’m going to lapse into a comfort stage where I’m somehow going to lose the drive to go through all the planning to travel the world. I don’t want to settle in to a comfortable situation and fall into old habits of following a routine. I know I’m here to study primarily, but I wish I could just pick up and leave to see what else there is to see over here. Just pack up my backpack, catch a train and hit the road. There are so many places to see that have personalities like Toledo, many with even more history than this city.
Domingo, el 25 de enero 2009
In the early morning rain
With a dollar in my hand
With an aching in my heart
And my pockets full of sand
I’m a long way from home
And I miss my loved ones so
It always kind of bothered me how I never really tend to get homesick. You always hear tales from so many people about how hard it is to be away from home, how every time they talk to someone from home they start sobbing, or how they just can’t seem to get into a mood to do anything because they’re in too much of a funk for missing home. Don’t get me wrong, I miss my family and all you guys like none other, but I just don’t find myself pining away every second of every day. There are just the couple moments where I remember how it is to wake up in the morning in my own bed, to look out the window and see the tops of the trees in the backyard. Or maybe something happens that makes me wish I were with someone from home who would be able to appreciate it with me more than I can on my own. And, so, I guess it was something about waking up this morning to the rain falling on the tiles of the roof outside my window that just made me remember Early Morning Rain by Gordon Lightfoot. It’s one of those songs that my mom always listened to when we would just hang out in the house on rainy days up in Wisconsin back in the wee days of my childhood. When something sensually provokes a memory it just makes the emotions feel so much stronger. So while you won’t catch me bawling my eyes out anytime soon, it’s days like today, with the rain falling outside and the smell of coffee brewing, where I wish I could just plop down in my mom’s room on her bed with her and my brothers and watch a movie or maybe some addictive crime show – or just curl up in a blanket on the futon in the dorm with everybody and just watch some Alfred Hitchcock or some horribly cute chickflick. Or just head over to Luna for a honey latte or some tea to just hang out and look up good music online or “do homework.”
So now, due to all the walking, I’m sitting on my bed at home halfway unable to move my legs. I guess part of it might also be the fact that we were kept up last night til 6 in the morning at a discoteca by some of our Spaniard friends that Jess and Becca befriended on Friday. So due to whichever, or both, of these reasons, my walking shoes and my fabulously-not-so-fashionable dancing shoes are hung up for the day. I think I might just sit back and watch the raindrops fall outside my window and spend some time catching up with my ol’ buddy Rick Steves to see what he has to recommend for my travels of Spain. Or there’s always the homework that needs to get done for class, but whenever I start thinking about it I also start thinking about how I don’t have class until Tuesday…procrastination at its finest? The truth of the matter is that my classes are all actually interesting, made even better by the fact that none of them have anything to do with education. I know I totally sound like a nerd or what have you, but these all just seem fairly intriguing: Theology of Spanish Mysticism – Christian, Muslim, and Jewish Art of Toledo – Cultural Heritage of Spain – Politics and Society in Latin America – Ethnology and Folklore of Spain
Moral of the story: I’ll catch all you tios y tias mas luego because Ricky and Platón (better known as Plato to you English-speaking folk) are both fighting for my attention. And I’ll leave you with a little thought of Spain, thanks to my old bud Rick: “Spain’s relative isolation created a unique country with odd customs -- bullfights, flamenco dancing, and a national obsession with ham” (which I can attest to, as on our visit to Madrid we encountered more Museos de Jamon than I can rightly recollect.
“These habits are so hard to break, and they’re so easy to make”
So, seeing as I have no internet at my house, save for the rare weekend where I can steal someone else’s unprotected wireless connection, I’m just going to stick to keeping you guys posted from an offline standpoint. Deal? Good.
As part of our homestay deal during the semester here, we get a bus pass included with the program so that we can get to and from the school from the various barrios de Toledo. I’ve actually figured out though that by walking, I live only 25 minutes away from el Casco. Granted, it’s a bit more with the walking distance to la Fund from Plaza Zocodover, which is the main plaza in the center of el Casco. Walking seems to help with absorbing the fact that I’m really here in the historical capital of Spain. But, no matter how many times in a day I walk to and from el Casco, it all just still seems so surreal. Just thinking about it all seems so bizarre. I essentially walk up the mountain that Toledo is built on, and, trust me, I’ll have the thighs to show it, it’s a bit of a climb. I cross el Río Tajo, the longest river in Spain, and meander up towards the main entrance through the walls that have surrounded Toledo for more years than the U.S. has existed. The main road takes me past all sorts of buildings that were at one point inhabited by the Muslims, Visigoths, or any of the other groups that held Toledo at one point or another over the past hundreds of years. Even today, just walking around in the Casco, seeing where the roads can take you, there’s so much history to the city that it’s almost beyond a single person’s grasp. Which makes everything SO bizarre.
While I still can’t seem to wrap my head around it, I can almost tell that I’m starting to get really comfortable with where I am. And while that is a good thing, it kind of makes me worry a little bit. I just have the irking feeling that I’m going to lapse into a comfort stage where I’m somehow going to lose the drive to go through all the planning to travel the world. I don’t want to settle in to a comfortable situation and fall into old habits of following a routine. I know I’m here to study primarily, but I wish I could just pick up and leave to see what else there is to see over here. Just pack up my backpack, catch a train and hit the road. There are so many places to see that have personalities like Toledo, many with even more history than this city.
Domingo, el 25 de enero 2009
In the early morning rain
With a dollar in my hand
With an aching in my heart
And my pockets full of sand
I’m a long way from home
And I miss my loved ones so
It always kind of bothered me how I never really tend to get homesick. You always hear tales from so many people about how hard it is to be away from home, how every time they talk to someone from home they start sobbing, or how they just can’t seem to get into a mood to do anything because they’re in too much of a funk for missing home. Don’t get me wrong, I miss my family and all you guys like none other, but I just don’t find myself pining away every second of every day. There are just the couple moments where I remember how it is to wake up in the morning in my own bed, to look out the window and see the tops of the trees in the backyard. Or maybe something happens that makes me wish I were with someone from home who would be able to appreciate it with me more than I can on my own. And, so, I guess it was something about waking up this morning to the rain falling on the tiles of the roof outside my window that just made me remember Early Morning Rain by Gordon Lightfoot. It’s one of those songs that my mom always listened to when we would just hang out in the house on rainy days up in Wisconsin back in the wee days of my childhood. When something sensually provokes a memory it just makes the emotions feel so much stronger. So while you won’t catch me bawling my eyes out anytime soon, it’s days like today, with the rain falling outside and the smell of coffee brewing, where I wish I could just plop down in my mom’s room on her bed with her and my brothers and watch a movie or maybe some addictive crime show – or just curl up in a blanket on the futon in the dorm with everybody and just watch some Alfred Hitchcock or some horribly cute chickflick. Or just head over to Luna for a honey latte or some tea to just hang out and look up good music online or “do homework.”
So now, due to all the walking, I’m sitting on my bed at home halfway unable to move my legs. I guess part of it might also be the fact that we were kept up last night til 6 in the morning at a discoteca by some of our Spaniard friends that Jess and Becca befriended on Friday. So due to whichever, or both, of these reasons, my walking shoes and my fabulously-not-so-fashionable dancing shoes are hung up for the day. I think I might just sit back and watch the raindrops fall outside my window and spend some time catching up with my ol’ buddy Rick Steves to see what he has to recommend for my travels of Spain. Or there’s always the homework that needs to get done for class, but whenever I start thinking about it I also start thinking about how I don’t have class until Tuesday…procrastination at its finest? The truth of the matter is that my classes are all actually interesting, made even better by the fact that none of them have anything to do with education. I know I totally sound like a nerd or what have you, but these all just seem fairly intriguing: Theology of Spanish Mysticism – Christian, Muslim, and Jewish Art of Toledo – Cultural Heritage of Spain – Politics and Society in Latin America – Ethnology and Folklore of Spain
Moral of the story: I’ll catch all you tios y tias mas luego because Ricky and Platón (better known as Plato to you English-speaking folk) are both fighting for my attention. And I’ll leave you with a little thought of Spain, thanks to my old bud Rick: “Spain’s relative isolation created a unique country with odd customs -- bullfights, flamenco dancing, and a national obsession with ham” (which I can attest to, as on our visit to Madrid we encountered more Museos de Jamon than I can rightly recollect.
Monday, January 19, 2009
Technically this might not be so accurate...
So this first bit is actually from the 15th, but up til now I haven't had internet en mi portatil, entonces:
It’s always so humbling that just when you think you really have a handle on another language, you go to the country where it’s native to, and you realize just how little you really understand. Maybe it’s because of the slow pace that it’s always spoken in during classes or maybe it’s the lisp that comes with the native accent, but, regardless, it’s just that much harder. But, then again, so long as you try to understand what people are saying and you attempt to speak back to them, they seem to give you a little bit more credit for at least trying. All I can say right now is that I hope over the course of three and a half months, the practice comes to something.
Living by myself with mi mama ought to do wonders too, as there’s no real way of dodging the Spanish-speaking bullet in this situation. Another thing I guess I have to be thankful for is the fact that, even though the streets are so twisty and baffling in Toledo, there’s no real way to get lost because you eventually find yourself anyway. And apparently I live fairly close to el Casco, so the commute to la Fund can either be made on foot within 20 minutes (the downside and upside being all the ups and downs of the hilly cobblestone roads) or by bus either 20 or 10 minutes. The only downside is that buses stop running around 11 o’clock at night, so, despite the limited buhó buses that are available until 4 in the morning, so the nightlife of a homestay student can’t be too extensive until we Americans manage to get a hold of this transportation-without-getting-too-lost-dealy/getting picked out as the obvious blonde non-Spaniard that I am. It’s times like these where I almost wish I had taken German instead of Spanish, as I obviously have no problem pulling the German card simply based on the number of Germans who kept on asking me questions only a German would know over the course of the Lufthansa journey on the way over, only to have me look at them hopelessly and tell them that I don’t speak a word of German (minus your most basic phrases).
But, for now, I guess we’ll see how the whole traipsing through Toledo at night goes tonight and just how hopelessly lost I might manage to get myself on the buhó buses. But moral of the story for today/this week: if you ever get the chance to even come to Toledo for one day to see the sites and meander through the streets of el Casco, take it. With its heritage coming down from the Visigoths, Moors, Romans, and just about every other faction that took over this city, it’s a gem. I can’t even begin to do it justice through any sort of description or pictures. In a way, I’m almost glad that I’ve been forgetting my camera so far it helps to get at least a minor grasp on everything that is Toledo. I doubt any pictures will be uploaded/taken for another week or so, at least until I can start to appreciate everything for myself. Pues, por esta noche, creo que es todo que puedo poner en palabras para vosotros. Y ahora, nos despedimos hasta mañana o el día próximo mis chiquitos.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________ So apparently Adolfo, my younger (but still older than me) host brother is engaged to Monica, which would explain why he doesn't live in the house anymore. But I actually got the chance to kind of hang out with them the other day. After 2 nights of going out (not hardcore, mind you), it was kind of nice to get to sleep until 11.30ish while mi mama was en la misa. Knowing that they were coming over after she got home from church for lunch kind of had me thinking it might be awkward, but surprisingly, Monica is an absolute sweetheart and probably one of the most extroverted people I've met so far. It's kind of comforting to know that the rest of the family is anything but awkward, so I don't have to be worrying about any future encounters with the other two brothers (who're both married with children, I guess).
I also think I tried one of my new favorite desserts yesterday: mixing lemon sorbet with some sort of wine or champagne (it was called caba - but, unfortunately, I have no idea what that translates to). Moral of the story: absolutely delicious, especially with a slice of homemade orange poundcake. I'm dying just thinking about it.
For anyone wondering, I am putting up some pictures onto facebook, so if you want they should be on there at some point. A lot of them are just from meandering around el Casco and walking from el barrio de Santa Barbara, where I live, to la Fund. Even though it's quite a hike and I've done it a couple times already, all the vistas and sitios never cease to amaze me. It's crazy to just take a walk down the street and see all sorts of old palacios and churches. The history of this place is like nothing I've ever seen before. Granted, I've seen various places that have their fair share of history in Europe and in Mexico, but something about the particular appeal of Toledan history is very distinct. The pictures are pretty cool, but it still doesn't do it any justice.
It’s always so humbling that just when you think you really have a handle on another language, you go to the country where it’s native to, and you realize just how little you really understand. Maybe it’s because of the slow pace that it’s always spoken in during classes or maybe it’s the lisp that comes with the native accent, but, regardless, it’s just that much harder. But, then again, so long as you try to understand what people are saying and you attempt to speak back to them, they seem to give you a little bit more credit for at least trying. All I can say right now is that I hope over the course of three and a half months, the practice comes to something.
Living by myself with mi mama ought to do wonders too, as there’s no real way of dodging the Spanish-speaking bullet in this situation. Another thing I guess I have to be thankful for is the fact that, even though the streets are so twisty and baffling in Toledo, there’s no real way to get lost because you eventually find yourself anyway. And apparently I live fairly close to el Casco, so the commute to la Fund can either be made on foot within 20 minutes (the downside and upside being all the ups and downs of the hilly cobblestone roads) or by bus either 20 or 10 minutes. The only downside is that buses stop running around 11 o’clock at night, so, despite the limited buhó buses that are available until 4 in the morning, so the nightlife of a homestay student can’t be too extensive until we Americans manage to get a hold of this transportation-without-getting-too-lost-dealy/getting picked out as the obvious blonde non-Spaniard that I am. It’s times like these where I almost wish I had taken German instead of Spanish, as I obviously have no problem pulling the German card simply based on the number of Germans who kept on asking me questions only a German would know over the course of the Lufthansa journey on the way over, only to have me look at them hopelessly and tell them that I don’t speak a word of German (minus your most basic phrases).
But, for now, I guess we’ll see how the whole traipsing through Toledo at night goes tonight and just how hopelessly lost I might manage to get myself on the buhó buses. But moral of the story for today/this week: if you ever get the chance to even come to Toledo for one day to see the sites and meander through the streets of el Casco, take it. With its heritage coming down from the Visigoths, Moors, Romans, and just about every other faction that took over this city, it’s a gem. I can’t even begin to do it justice through any sort of description or pictures. In a way, I’m almost glad that I’ve been forgetting my camera so far it helps to get at least a minor grasp on everything that is Toledo. I doubt any pictures will be uploaded/taken for another week or so, at least until I can start to appreciate everything for myself. Pues, por esta noche, creo que es todo que puedo poner en palabras para vosotros. Y ahora, nos despedimos hasta mañana o el día próximo mis chiquitos.
____________________________________________________________________________________________________ So apparently Adolfo, my younger (but still older than me) host brother is engaged to Monica, which would explain why he doesn't live in the house anymore. But I actually got the chance to kind of hang out with them the other day. After 2 nights of going out (not hardcore, mind you), it was kind of nice to get to sleep until 11.30ish while mi mama was en la misa. Knowing that they were coming over after she got home from church for lunch kind of had me thinking it might be awkward, but surprisingly, Monica is an absolute sweetheart and probably one of the most extroverted people I've met so far. It's kind of comforting to know that the rest of the family is anything but awkward, so I don't have to be worrying about any future encounters with the other two brothers (who're both married with children, I guess).
I also think I tried one of my new favorite desserts yesterday: mixing lemon sorbet with some sort of wine or champagne (it was called caba - but, unfortunately, I have no idea what that translates to). Moral of the story: absolutely delicious, especially with a slice of homemade orange poundcake. I'm dying just thinking about it.
For anyone wondering, I am putting up some pictures onto facebook, so if you want they should be on there at some point. A lot of them are just from meandering around el Casco and walking from el barrio de Santa Barbara, where I live, to la Fund. Even though it's quite a hike and I've done it a couple times already, all the vistas and sitios never cease to amaze me. It's crazy to just take a walk down the street and see all sorts of old palacios and churches. The history of this place is like nothing I've ever seen before. Granted, I've seen various places that have their fair share of history in Europe and in Mexico, but something about the particular appeal of Toledan history is very distinct. The pictures are pretty cool, but it still doesn't do it any justice.
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Twisty Toledo
They say drinking a crap ton of water is the best way to deal with jet lag, and, yet, despite the 50 billion ounces I´ve been drinking, I feel like I have one of the worst hangovers known to mankind, simply because of the lack of sleep. One would think after going on tour with a metal band this summer and staying up for 72 hours on 4 hours of sleep I´d be used to something like this, but still, my body´s not taking it well.
Despite this, however, I couldn´t have chosen a better city to have studied abroad in, simply based on how old everything is and how easily a simple person can get lost in here. El Casco, the old town - where the Fundacion is, is all cobblestone roads that are so narrow that there´s essentially nowhere to run to when a car comes flying down at you, but it just makes it all that much more thrilling. I have a feeling that it might just take quite a bit of time to figure out how to navigate my way around the city. That was the one thing that everyone really warned about with Toledo - apparently the streets wind around and around and sometimes suddenly end without any sort of warning. I´m still alive though and apparently found my back to the Fund, so maybe it´s not as bad as they were making it out to be.
I had to laugh a little bit last night because everyone was so nervous about the whole host family ordeal and meeting them, while the only real thing on my mind were the most basic of human needs. It´s kind of hard to freak out about something like that when you haven´t slept in god knows how long and you just drank 5 bottles of water. The good news is that the family that I was expecting, with 25 and 30 year old host brothers included, is really only just the mom since all the sons have moved out already. I don´t know what it is, but all my host moms to date have all been ridiculously adorable and absolute sweethearts. Even better than that is the fact that she doesn´t seem like the type that´s going to be giving me crap about not eating meat or dairy. Apparently she has a passion for all things that come from the ground; I have a feeling we´ll get along swimmingly.
As of right now, it seems that everyone else is freaking out about being so far from home, while it still hasn´t really sunk in for me that I´m here for the next 3.5 months until I move northward towards other adventures. One would think that I´d be peeing in my pants, but right now the need for sleep and food is taking importance over just about everything else, that and the desire to go traipsing through the city.
Despite this, however, I couldn´t have chosen a better city to have studied abroad in, simply based on how old everything is and how easily a simple person can get lost in here. El Casco, the old town - where the Fundacion is, is all cobblestone roads that are so narrow that there´s essentially nowhere to run to when a car comes flying down at you, but it just makes it all that much more thrilling. I have a feeling that it might just take quite a bit of time to figure out how to navigate my way around the city. That was the one thing that everyone really warned about with Toledo - apparently the streets wind around and around and sometimes suddenly end without any sort of warning. I´m still alive though and apparently found my back to the Fund, so maybe it´s not as bad as they were making it out to be.
I had to laugh a little bit last night because everyone was so nervous about the whole host family ordeal and meeting them, while the only real thing on my mind were the most basic of human needs. It´s kind of hard to freak out about something like that when you haven´t slept in god knows how long and you just drank 5 bottles of water. The good news is that the family that I was expecting, with 25 and 30 year old host brothers included, is really only just the mom since all the sons have moved out already. I don´t know what it is, but all my host moms to date have all been ridiculously adorable and absolute sweethearts. Even better than that is the fact that she doesn´t seem like the type that´s going to be giving me crap about not eating meat or dairy. Apparently she has a passion for all things that come from the ground; I have a feeling we´ll get along swimmingly.
As of right now, it seems that everyone else is freaking out about being so far from home, while it still hasn´t really sunk in for me that I´m here for the next 3.5 months until I move northward towards other adventures. One would think that I´d be peeing in my pants, but right now the need for sleep and food is taking importance over just about everything else, that and the desire to go traipsing through the city.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
It's mind boggling how quickly time always seems to go. It honestly seems like just the other day, I was sitting in Prof. Tashjian's office for advisement trying to figure out just how I'd end up taking care of the immersion requirement for my Spanish minor. Now, however, I have barely exactly a week left until my plane takes off. I keep on taking on a calm approach to the whole packing and getting ready aspects, but then there are always those "oh shit" moments where I realize just what I'm going to be doing. It's times like those where I'm terrified of just what lies ahead of me on my meandering halfway across Europe on my own, but, then again, these are probably the best experiences anyone can have. 4 months in Toledo before I hit the road up towards the UK for a week of historical touring in Ireland then heading out to the Northeast to spend 2 months in Lietuva, brushing up on a language one would think that I really would be able to speak well by now.
But for the next six days I guess it's back to flipping through the books on Spain and Europe trying to figure out just what there is to see overseas. I think I might just end up going mad.
But for the next six days I guess it's back to flipping through the books on Spain and Europe trying to figure out just what there is to see overseas. I think I might just end up going mad.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Waiting for Departure
Just under two weeks and counting until the Lufthansa plane takes off from O'Hare and I won't be seeing the United States for over half a year. Part of me is peeing in my pants, the other part can't wait to leave and get a taste of some much-needed adventure. You'd think that with everything that's been going on that I wouldn't have gotten bored, but I'm hankering to do something completely different from what I've been stuck with for the past couple years. The only things I have holding me back mentally and emotionally are family and other dealings, but we'll see how it all works out.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
