The Spanish president, José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero, was addressing the crowd at the XVII Cumbre Iberoamericana (where all the heads of government within the Hispanic community meet), when Chavez decided to interrupt him and continue to talk over him. That's when King Juan Carlos I, as to defend his president, said, "¿Por qué no te callas?" or "Why don't you shut up?" in English. The king's outburst has become the new catch phrase for songs and T-shirts. I wouldn't be surprised if it's the basis of a skit on Saturday Night Live this weekend. Watch the show and tell me about it next week.
Tuesday, November 13, 2007
Tuesday the 13th
I'm in class right now, so I shouldn't be writing, but my professor brought up the fact that Tuesday the 13th is the day of bad luck in Spain, not Friday the 13th. But nobody's talking about bad luck today. They prefer to talk about (Spanish) King Juan Carlos I telling Venezuelan Hugo Chavez to shut up this past weekend. My señora Inés thinks Chavez is a dictator. I'll refrain from criticizing him now because the rest of the world has already done so. If you don't know what I'm talking about, see the video below.
The Spanish president, José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero, was addressing the crowd at the XVII Cumbre Iberoamericana (where all the heads of government within the Hispanic community meet), when Chavez decided to interrupt him and continue to talk over him. That's when King Juan Carlos I, as to defend his president, said, "¿Por qué no te callas?" or "Why don't you shut up?" in English. The king's outburst has become the new catch phrase for songs and T-shirts. I wouldn't be surprised if it's the basis of a skit on Saturday Night Live this weekend. Watch the show and tell me about it next week.
The Spanish president, José Luis Rodríguez Zapatero, was addressing the crowd at the XVII Cumbre Iberoamericana (where all the heads of government within the Hispanic community meet), when Chavez decided to interrupt him and continue to talk over him. That's when King Juan Carlos I, as to defend his president, said, "¿Por qué no te callas?" or "Why don't you shut up?" in English. The king's outburst has become the new catch phrase for songs and T-shirts. I wouldn't be surprised if it's the basis of a skit on Saturday Night Live this weekend. Watch the show and tell me about it next week.
Sunday, November 4, 2007
Morocco...can you feel it?!
I can still feel it. Desert sand from the Sahara is still in my hair and great memories and sights keep playing in my mind. Unfortunately, I broke my camera in Granada doing N*Sync dance moves so I have to steal pictures from friends. As soon as I get them, I'll post them. Anyhoo, here are some highlights below.
Things to Know about Morocco:
- Morocco is an Arab, Muslim country.
- Morocco and Spain are separated by the Straight of Gibraltar, which stretches to 27 miles (43 km) at its widest point.
- Dirhans are the Moroccan currency (10 dirhans = 1 Euro = 1.50 U.S. dollars).
- Northern Morocco is 'Spanish Morocco' and southern Morocco is "French Morocco."
- Morocco and Spain have fought in wars, some Spaniards don't appreciate Moroccan immigrants and two Spanish territories, Ceuta and Melilla, are physically located in Morocco.
Highlights of Morocco:
Day 1: Wednesday, October 31
- We traveled from Sevilla to Tarifa, Spain, to catch the 35-minute ferry to Tanger, Morocco, where we met out Moroccan guide, Leila.
- Traveled to Volubilis, a city of Roman ruins dating back to 40 A.D. that still has much of the city intact. The large arches at the entrance, the columns, mosaics and...uh, vomitoriums, were entrancing.
- We hopped back on the bus to take a short ride to Meknes, a former royal city and an iconic city in the Islamic world. It's beautifully decorated Bab al-Mansour gate is simply impressive. Directly across the street stood a huge market, bustling with beautiful people (some women were covered from head to toe while others dressed like kids in America), street performers, restuarants, clothing stores in small alleyways and more. We only had 30 minutes to partake in the wonderful madness.
Day 2: Thursday, November 1
- On on long bus ride through the vast and breathtaking Atlas Mountains, we stopped in Ifrane. Ifrane is called the Switzerland of Morocco. The city, which is home to expensive ski resorts, looks like any other in the U.S. It was our first taste of 'civilization' as we knew it in Morocco and I enjoyed it. Ifrane is also home to a huge statue of a lion called the Lion of Atlas, referring to the mountain range.
- The rest of the day was basically spent on the bus because we had to travel to the Sahara Desert. We ate lunch in Midelt thenm continued toward Rissani. There we hung out at a ranch where Moroccan men showed us traditional rugs and turbans used in the dessert. They also served us a meat and onion-stuffed pizza-like dish and tea. Then we hopped in their jeeps to head to Merzuga, our residence for the night in the Sahara.
- I had the best time in Merzuga. At the hotel/restuarant, we were served tajine, a North African dish made of slow cooked-meat with vegetables and sauce made in the ceramic pot also called the tajine. Young musicians sang and played music for us as we ate, then we all went to an outside patio to enjoy more song and dance numbers. My friends and I ended up clapping and dancing with them. I felt so free...free enough to belly dance and fling my hair around like a rock star with the female dancer.
- The night was not over. My friend Micheal and I became friends with two Swedes, Jonas (the 'j' is pronounced like the English 'y') and Magnus. We, at the behest of our lively tour guide, Mónica, ran up and down the sand dunes in the backyard to watch the moon rise. Michael had the great idea to roll down the sand dunes, so we all ended up eating dirt rolling down them individually and with partners. Needless to say, we had sand coming from every orifice. And that's why I still have sand in my hair. This sand is very, very fine, so I have a feeling I'll be home for Christmas with these little treasures from the desert.
Day 3: Friday, November 2
- The next day, we woke up at 4 a.m. That's right...4 a.m. to ride camels over the dunes to watch the sunset. I was super excited to ride the camel. The camels sealed the deal on paying a ton of money on the trip. But, camels don't look so friendly. I think they were just waking up, so they were making ungodly, throaty noises and the grinding of their teeth is quite unattractive. And once I sat atop a camel, you realized I was in for a bumpy ride. The camels rise on their feet by first lifting up their front legs and then the back legs. Can you say scary? But it was pretty much smooth sailing after that (They slid down a little bit going down the sand dunes.) And the initial scares were worth the view of the sun rising over the large, caramel-colored sand dunes. It's indescribable.
- We soon rode our camels back to hotel to eat breakfast, to ride the Jeeps back to Rissani and get on the bus yet again. We the entire day on the bus, but I didn't mind. I caught up on sleep and knew that we were headed to Fez, one of the largest cities in Morocco. Fez is a city which is made up of the old medina and the modern part of town recently constructed by the French.
Day 4: Saturday, November 3
- We woke up bright and early to tour the famous medina in Fez. Like the tour guide said eight million times, the medina "is a city within a city. It is comprised of thousands of little shops connected by narrow alleyways. We almost were ran over by the donkey's carrying merchandise, though. That was not fun, but visiting some of the quintessential shops in the medina was amazing, for example, we visited a legendary leather shop in the Tanneries Quarter. From its terrace rooftop we could view the huge, circular dye pits, in which the workers dye the animal skin after it's been cured and softened in pigeon dung. Oh yeah, the shop smelled like the poop, but the handmade purses, luggage and shoes were gorgeous. We visited a textile shop where people were working on the loom to make beautiful, multi-colored scarfs and blankets. Of course, I had to buy one. The next shop sold traditional Moroccan apparel, such as the robe-like kaftans and hooded djellaba (the 'd' is silent). We exited through the Bab Boujloud is considered the main entry to the Medina because of its beautiful and impressive door that is blue on one side and green on the other.
- Once the tour ended, we had the entire afternoon free. So my crew and I headed off to lunch in the modern part of Fez. Again, we hit a language barrier. Monica, the guide, had to translate our orders from Spanish to French. After eating our pizzas we just walked through the city, which looks like any large American city. The older people wore traditional robe-like attire, while the younger folk wore blue jeans and knit tops. We eventually spotted a McDonald's, which advertised the new McArabian burger, but we were harassed by these little eight-year-old girls. One actually hit Michael after he refused to purchase a leaf. Yes, a leaf!
-After our run-in with the diminutive beggars-in-training, we went back to the hotel to journal, use the Internet and rest before dinner. We had to eat dinner quickly because we all headed out to a show, which boasted performers from different neighborhoods in Fez. Performers included singers, musicians and a fire-eating belly dancer. People from the audience, included my roommate, Kareemah, joined the performers on stage. Kareemah was one of four women who reenacted a wedding reception, in which the brides were lifted up into carriages and doted upon. It was awesome! If I had the time and money, I would definitely hit up Fez again.
Day 5: Sunday, November 4
- We woke up early again to eat breakfast and check out of our hotel. This day was to be our last in Morocco, but on the way back to the ferry to Spain, we stopped at a few more sites.
- We visited a market, which is only open on Sundays. The market is not even located in a city, but rather is in the center of neighboring communities. Here, the neighbors gather to sell and buy clothes, fruits, vegetables or whatever else is needed. Michael and I were broke, so we were trying to find some good bargains.
- Then we finally arrived in Chauen (or Chaouen). The town came out of nowhere. Chauen, which sits in the Rif mountains, is a well-preserved medina from the15th century. It was the Muslim civilization of Andulucía, the province in which Sevilla resides. The town is famous for its relaxed atmosphere, narrow streets with blue-white walls and its adorable children who greet you in Spanish. The blue and white colors alternate to reflect sunlight and repel mosquitoes. And all blue streets or steps indicate that there is only one way to enter and exit.
- I had the best chicken tajine ever at a little restuarant in the city's market. My friends and I ate on the terrace wo we could see the Rif Mountains in the background.
- Then we went back on the bus to travel six hours to the ferry. The ferry from Tangier and Tarifa made Michael and I nauseous, but our new Spanish and Swedish friends thought it was hilarious. Of course, we didn't, but I took the time to enjoy their company for the last time.
- We took a bus from the ferry to Sevilla and landed in Sevilla's center at 11:00 p.m. on the dot. And I was already pining for another trip to Morocco.
Things to Know about Morocco:
- Morocco is an Arab, Muslim country.
- Morocco and Spain are separated by the Straight of Gibraltar, which stretches to 27 miles (43 km) at its widest point.
- Dirhans are the Moroccan currency (10 dirhans = 1 Euro = 1.50 U.S. dollars).
- Northern Morocco is 'Spanish Morocco' and southern Morocco is "French Morocco."
- Morocco and Spain have fought in wars, some Spaniards don't appreciate Moroccan immigrants and two Spanish territories, Ceuta and Melilla, are physically located in Morocco.
Highlights of Morocco:
Day 1: Wednesday, October 31
- We traveled from Sevilla to Tarifa, Spain, to catch the 35-minute ferry to Tanger, Morocco, where we met out Moroccan guide, Leila.
- Traveled to Volubilis, a city of Roman ruins dating back to 40 A.D. that still has much of the city intact. The large arches at the entrance, the columns, mosaics and...uh, vomitoriums, were entrancing.
- We hopped back on the bus to take a short ride to Meknes, a former royal city and an iconic city in the Islamic world. It's beautifully decorated Bab al-Mansour gate is simply impressive. Directly across the street stood a huge market, bustling with beautiful people (some women were covered from head to toe while others dressed like kids in America), street performers, restuarants, clothing stores in small alleyways and more. We only had 30 minutes to partake in the wonderful madness.
Day 2: Thursday, November 1
- On on long bus ride through the vast and breathtaking Atlas Mountains, we stopped in Ifrane. Ifrane is called the Switzerland of Morocco. The city, which is home to expensive ski resorts, looks like any other in the U.S. It was our first taste of 'civilization' as we knew it in Morocco and I enjoyed it. Ifrane is also home to a huge statue of a lion called the Lion of Atlas, referring to the mountain range.
- The rest of the day was basically spent on the bus because we had to travel to the Sahara Desert. We ate lunch in Midelt thenm continued toward Rissani. There we hung out at a ranch where Moroccan men showed us traditional rugs and turbans used in the dessert. They also served us a meat and onion-stuffed pizza-like dish and tea. Then we hopped in their jeeps to head to Merzuga, our residence for the night in the Sahara.
- I had the best time in Merzuga. At the hotel/restuarant, we were served tajine, a North African dish made of slow cooked-meat with vegetables and sauce made in the ceramic pot also called the tajine. Young musicians sang and played music for us as we ate, then we all went to an outside patio to enjoy more song and dance numbers. My friends and I ended up clapping and dancing with them. I felt so free...free enough to belly dance and fling my hair around like a rock star with the female dancer.
- The night was not over. My friend Micheal and I became friends with two Swedes, Jonas (the 'j' is pronounced like the English 'y') and Magnus. We, at the behest of our lively tour guide, Mónica, ran up and down the sand dunes in the backyard to watch the moon rise. Michael had the great idea to roll down the sand dunes, so we all ended up eating dirt rolling down them individually and with partners. Needless to say, we had sand coming from every orifice. And that's why I still have sand in my hair. This sand is very, very fine, so I have a feeling I'll be home for Christmas with these little treasures from the desert.
Day 3: Friday, November 2
- The next day, we woke up at 4 a.m. That's right...4 a.m. to ride camels over the dunes to watch the sunset. I was super excited to ride the camel. The camels sealed the deal on paying a ton of money on the trip. But, camels don't look so friendly. I think they were just waking up, so they were making ungodly, throaty noises and the grinding of their teeth is quite unattractive. And once I sat atop a camel, you realized I was in for a bumpy ride. The camels rise on their feet by first lifting up their front legs and then the back legs. Can you say scary? But it was pretty much smooth sailing after that (They slid down a little bit going down the sand dunes.) And the initial scares were worth the view of the sun rising over the large, caramel-colored sand dunes. It's indescribable.
- We soon rode our camels back to hotel to eat breakfast, to ride the Jeeps back to Rissani and get on the bus yet again. We the entire day on the bus, but I didn't mind. I caught up on sleep and knew that we were headed to Fez, one of the largest cities in Morocco. Fez is a city which is made up of the old medina and the modern part of town recently constructed by the French.
Day 4: Saturday, November 3
- We woke up bright and early to tour the famous medina in Fez. Like the tour guide said eight million times, the medina "is a city within a city. It is comprised of thousands of little shops connected by narrow alleyways. We almost were ran over by the donkey's carrying merchandise, though. That was not fun, but visiting some of the quintessential shops in the medina was amazing, for example, we visited a legendary leather shop in the Tanneries Quarter. From its terrace rooftop we could view the huge, circular dye pits, in which the workers dye the animal skin after it's been cured and softened in pigeon dung. Oh yeah, the shop smelled like the poop, but the handmade purses, luggage and shoes were gorgeous. We visited a textile shop where people were working on the loom to make beautiful, multi-colored scarfs and blankets. Of course, I had to buy one. The next shop sold traditional Moroccan apparel, such as the robe-like kaftans and hooded djellaba (the 'd' is silent). We exited through the Bab Boujloud is considered the main entry to the Medina because of its beautiful and impressive door that is blue on one side and green on the other.
- Once the tour ended, we had the entire afternoon free. So my crew and I headed off to lunch in the modern part of Fez. Again, we hit a language barrier. Monica, the guide, had to translate our orders from Spanish to French. After eating our pizzas we just walked through the city, which looks like any large American city. The older people wore traditional robe-like attire, while the younger folk wore blue jeans and knit tops. We eventually spotted a McDonald's, which advertised the new McArabian burger, but we were harassed by these little eight-year-old girls. One actually hit Michael after he refused to purchase a leaf. Yes, a leaf!
-After our run-in with the diminutive beggars-in-training, we went back to the hotel to journal, use the Internet and rest before dinner. We had to eat dinner quickly because we all headed out to a show, which boasted performers from different neighborhoods in Fez. Performers included singers, musicians and a fire-eating belly dancer. People from the audience, included my roommate, Kareemah, joined the performers on stage. Kareemah was one of four women who reenacted a wedding reception, in which the brides were lifted up into carriages and doted upon. It was awesome! If I had the time and money, I would definitely hit up Fez again.
Day 5: Sunday, November 4
- We woke up early again to eat breakfast and check out of our hotel. This day was to be our last in Morocco, but on the way back to the ferry to Spain, we stopped at a few more sites.
- We visited a market, which is only open on Sundays. The market is not even located in a city, but rather is in the center of neighboring communities. Here, the neighbors gather to sell and buy clothes, fruits, vegetables or whatever else is needed. Michael and I were broke, so we were trying to find some good bargains.
- Then we finally arrived in Chauen (or Chaouen). The town came out of nowhere. Chauen, which sits in the Rif mountains, is a well-preserved medina from the15th century. It was the Muslim civilization of Andulucía, the province in which Sevilla resides. The town is famous for its relaxed atmosphere, narrow streets with blue-white walls and its adorable children who greet you in Spanish. The blue and white colors alternate to reflect sunlight and repel mosquitoes. And all blue streets or steps indicate that there is only one way to enter and exit.
- I had the best chicken tajine ever at a little restuarant in the city's market. My friends and I ate on the terrace wo we could see the Rif Mountains in the background.
- Then we went back on the bus to travel six hours to the ferry. The ferry from Tangier and Tarifa made Michael and I nauseous, but our new Spanish and Swedish friends thought it was hilarious. Of course, we didn't, but I took the time to enjoy their company for the last time.
- We took a bus from the ferry to Sevilla and landed in Sevilla's center at 11:00 p.m. on the dot. And I was already pining for another trip to Morocco.
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Granada! Granada! I love ya, Granada!
The entire "UNC in Sevilla" Study Abroad Program went to Granada, Spain, from Oct. 26, to Oct. 28. We enjoyed ourselves thoroughly - just think of 8th century palaces and houkah bars. Sometimes pictures tell the story best, so check them out below.
BubbleShare: Share photos - Thanksgivingtime!
BubbleShare: Share photos - Thanksgivingtime!
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Politics on the Job
I knew this day would come - the day in which I would have to walk the tight line between totally bashing my country and defending its actions. That day was Oct. 23, 2007. I went to La Casa de Ancianos, an elderly residence/convent, to learn about volunteer opportunities. During the informational interview with Cayetano, a director of volunteers, I learned that I would help serve lunch or dinner and just talk with the elderly women, who have little money and little family to tend to them. Then he wanted to know more about me and my country. I should have seen the red flag, but, nope, I didn't. I walked right into the dreadful conversation about Bush and the Iraq War, the hypocrisy within the U.S. government, gas-guzzlers and their negative effect on the environment. YIKES!
It's not that I don't know that the U.S. has its problems or that I'm unaware of how other country's view the red, white and blue, I just wasn't expecting to talk about it in that setting. Also, it's difficult to bash your country when you miss it. I identify with being an American (whatever that is) so much right now, because the phrase, "Soy americana," usually follows, "Hola. Me llamo Dioni." Plus, I never want to put forth the impression that my opinions are those of every U.S. citizen. So what's a girl to do? Well, I just slumped further in my chair as Cayetano shared all the opinions he has formed from his 26 years of earthly living. I finally said I had homework to do to get out the conversation. (It wasn't a lie.) Past study abroad students said they often found themselves in the same predicament, but somehow I had managed to avoid it. Now I'll take notice of the red flag before I crash and burn again.
It's not that I don't know that the U.S. has its problems or that I'm unaware of how other country's view the red, white and blue, I just wasn't expecting to talk about it in that setting. Also, it's difficult to bash your country when you miss it. I identify with being an American (whatever that is) so much right now, because the phrase, "Soy americana," usually follows, "Hola. Me llamo Dioni." Plus, I never want to put forth the impression that my opinions are those of every U.S. citizen. So what's a girl to do? Well, I just slumped further in my chair as Cayetano shared all the opinions he has formed from his 26 years of earthly living. I finally said I had homework to do to get out the conversation. (It wasn't a lie.) Past study abroad students said they often found themselves in the same predicament, but somehow I had managed to avoid it. Now I'll take notice of the red flag before I crash and burn again.
Monday, October 22, 2007
Madrid...Enough Said.
DAY 1: Friday, Oct. 19
I headed out of Sevilla on the 8 a.m. Socibus. The drive took six hours, so thank God I slept the first three hours. On a good note, I only paid $25 for the trip. When I arrived I took the metro to our hotel, Best Western Premier Hotel in Santo Domingo. When I walked through the doors, my Aunt Dee-Dee and her friend Liz where waiting in the lobby with open arms. (Sidebar: Aunt De- Dee, the senior editor for multimedia at The Charlotte Observer, will give a presentation to European journalists on how the news industry in the U.S. is trying to identify and best serve its online readers.) Given that it was 3 p.m., our first mission was to eat lunch. So we headed out into a busy Puerta del Sol, full of tourists, shoppers and diners. To see the diversity of
people and hear the variety in language was amazing. I think it's much more prominent in Madrid then Sevilla.
At lunch, I officially became the translator for the weekend. Liz, whose parents are Ecuadorian, spoke a little Spanish, but gave the main Spanish-speaking to me. Aunt Dee-Dee and Liz enjoyed their first plate of paella (the rice, meat and seafood dish) and croquetas (small often rounded masses consisting usually of minced meat, fish, or vegetable coated with egg and bread crumbs and deep-fried, basically the Southerner's hush puppies). We also shared a pitcher of sangria (iced punch made of red wine, fruit juice, and soda water; named after blood o sangre for it's rich red color). For desert, we hit up Chocolatería San Gines for churros and warm chocolate sauce.
After gaining about five pounds from lunch, we walked through the various shops and passed the opera house, the Royal Theater (Teatro Real) to the Royal Palace (Palacio Real) and its statue-filled Plaza de Oriente. This area is obviously a tourist attraction, so we were among the many who took pictures in front of the statues of former royalty and government officials. It's simply grand, the palace. King Juan Carlos I and his wife, Queen Sofía, don't live in the palace, but they host formal gatherings there. We entered the court that connects the Palace and Cathedral of Almudena and peered through the gates, marking the schedule to memory so we could tour them on Saturday.
DAY 2: Saturday, Oct. 20
Our first stop: La Plaza Mayor, the central, grand square that currently houses popular restaurants and the tourist office, was once the stage of royal coronations, mass killings and bullfights. Over breakfast, we tried to figure out if the 39 €-Madrid Card was worth it. We figured it was. The card offers free access to almost 40 museums, short waits in lines, discounts, unlimited rides (for one day) on the Madrid Vision tour bus, etc. That tour bus was hot! It a double-decker that allowed you to give off and on wherever and whenever you wanted. We toured the the palace first. I wish I could show you pictures of the ornate grandeur of it all, but picture-taking wasn't allowed. It's beautiful, of course. Every room had it's own decor and own purpose, like King Carlos III smoked in here and wrote letters in there. That's the kind of extravagance I'm talking about! I've never seen such a great amount of gold in my life. The tour was long and tiring, so we ate afterwards at a place designated in our Madrid Card. We thought we would get a 15% discount, but no. It was alright, though. As we ate, we looked at the Shiatsu masseures and masseuses messaging the heck out of people's heads and feet. So we partook in the action too. The messages were great. Just what we needed to prepare us for more exploration.
We headed back on the tour bus and looked over so much - the Paseo del Prado (the stretch in which you'll find the most important art museums), the shops (Gucci!) in modern Spain, the skyscrapers, Plaza del Colón (dedicated to Christopher Colombus) and Santiago Bernabéu Stadium (the home of Real Madrid, the world-famous soccer club and David Beckham's former team). (Sidebar: I wish I had time to tour the stadium, but maybe another time.) That night we hit La Gran Vía, literally the "Great Way," to eat dinner. La Gran Vía is the Broadway of Spain. It houses many theatres, to which people were headed to see the Spanish versions of "Jesus Chirst Superstar and Beauty and the Beast. Aunt Dee-Dee didn't enjoy the hustle and bustle, but I found it all exciting. We ended the night eating burgers, drinking sangria and surfing the net at Zahara. Everyone in Spain nor every hotel in Spain has Internet access. Therefore, we had to access the Internet and long-distance calls at Internet cafes called Internetías. Zahara happened to have one below its dining area and bar. My friends - Dianna, Abby and Laura - sent me a video of them at the homecoming game at Kinston High School. (We lost, of course.) Anyhoo, they sent greetings from home and had me laughing in this public Internet cafe in Madrid. I love technology! (Sidebar: It was cold in Madrid. I'm definitely going to look up the weather before traveling again.)
DAY 3: Sunday, Oct. 21
We finally made it to the Reina Sofía National Museum and Art Center on Sunday morning. Wowza! ¡Qué guay! The museum housed more contemporary art of the 20th century and of today's artists. I was most excited about seeing the work of Salvador Dalí and Pablo Picasso, and I was not disappointed. And "Guernica" does exist! I've seen it! (Sidebar: I stole that tagline from a postcard.) You could easily spend more than four hours in the museum. We only could muster two.
Dalí - "El Gran Masturbador"
Picasso - "Guernica"
We were pooped after the Reina Sofía tour, so we ate the bomb ham and cheese sandwiches at El brillante. Spanish or Iberian ham is on another level of great taste. Anyhoo, we then headed to the Prado. There we saw a vast amount of paintings from several centuries. Some notable painters were "El Greco," Diego Velázquez, Francisco de Goya and Rembrandt. The paintings were usually of the same themes - royalty, Virgen Mary, the Cruxificion. I didn't like it as much as Reina Sofia, but I can now say that I've seen the famous Prado Musuem. The other visitors gave me something to look at too. We represented so many different countries and cultures, so I looked and listened to how people commented on the paintings in Dutch, Britiish English, Italian, etc. That was an experience within itself. After the two-hour tour, we had to go back to the hotel so I could retrieve my bags and head to Atocha to catch a train.
On the Metro from the Prado to the hotel to get my bags, Liz's wallet was stolen from her purse. Some gypsies pushed her into the car and got on either side of her. Liz said it was her fault because her purse was wide open. Hopefully, everything will turn out fine. But we all learned a good lesson: be careful and be aware of your belongings and who's watching them.
I headed out of Sevilla on the 8 a.m. Socibus. The drive took six hours, so thank God I slept the first three hours. On a good note, I only paid $25 for the trip. When I arrived I took the metro to our hotel, Best Western Premier Hotel in Santo Domingo. When I walked through the doors, my Aunt Dee-Dee and her friend Liz where waiting in the lobby with open arms. (Sidebar: Aunt De- Dee, the senior editor for multimedia at The Charlotte Observer, will give a presentation to European journalists on how the news industry in the U.S. is trying to identify and best serve its online readers.) Given that it was 3 p.m., our first mission was to eat lunch. So we headed out into a busy Puerta del Sol, full of tourists, shoppers and diners. To see the diversity of
people and hear the variety in language was amazing. I think it's much more prominent in Madrid then Sevilla.At lunch, I officially became the translator for the weekend. Liz, whose parents are Ecuadorian, spoke a little Spanish, but gave the main Spanish-speaking to me. Aunt Dee-Dee and Liz enjoyed their first plate of paella (the rice, meat and seafood dish) and croquetas (small often rounded masses consisting usually of minced meat, fish, or vegetable coated with egg and bread crumbs and deep-fried, basically the Southerner's hush puppies). We also shared a pitcher of sangria (iced punch made of red wine, fruit juice, and soda water; named after blood o sangre for it's rich red color). For desert, we hit up Chocolatería San Gines for churros and warm chocolate sauce.
After gaining about five pounds from lunch, we walked through the various shops and passed the opera house, the Royal Theater (Teatro Real) to the Royal Palace (Palacio Real) and its statue-filled Plaza de Oriente. This area is obviously a tourist attraction, so we were among the many who took pictures in front of the statues of former royalty and government officials. It's simply grand, the palace. King Juan Carlos I and his wife, Queen Sofía, don't live in the palace, but they host formal gatherings there. We entered the court that connects the Palace and Cathedral of Almudena and peered through the gates, marking the schedule to memory so we could tour them on Saturday.
DAY 2: Saturday, Oct. 20
Our first stop: La Plaza Mayor, the central, grand square that currently houses popular restaurants and the tourist office, was once the stage of royal coronations, mass killings and bullfights. Over breakfast, we tried to figure out if the 39 €-Madrid Card was worth it. We figured it was. The card offers free access to almost 40 museums, short waits in lines, discounts, unlimited rides (for one day) on the Madrid Vision tour bus, etc. That tour bus was hot! It a double-decker that allowed you to give off and on wherever and whenever you wanted. We toured the the palace first. I wish I could show you pictures of the ornate grandeur of it all, but picture-taking wasn't allowed. It's beautiful, of course. Every room had it's own decor and own purpose, like King Carlos III smoked in here and wrote letters in there. That's the kind of extravagance I'm talking about! I've never seen such a great amount of gold in my life. The tour was long and tiring, so we ate afterwards at a place designated in our Madrid Card. We thought we would get a 15% discount, but no. It was alright, though. As we ate, we looked at the Shiatsu masseures and masseuses messaging the heck out of people's heads and feet. So we partook in the action too. The messages were great. Just what we needed to prepare us for more exploration.
We headed back on the tour bus and looked over so much - the Paseo del Prado (the stretch in which you'll find the most important art museums), the shops (Gucci!) in modern Spain, the skyscrapers, Plaza del Colón (dedicated to Christopher Colombus) and Santiago Bernabéu Stadium (the home of Real Madrid, the world-famous soccer club and David Beckham's former team). (Sidebar: I wish I had time to tour the stadium, but maybe another time.) That night we hit La Gran Vía, literally the "Great Way," to eat dinner. La Gran Vía is the Broadway of Spain. It houses many theatres, to which people were headed to see the Spanish versions of "Jesus Chirst Superstar and Beauty and the Beast. Aunt Dee-Dee didn't enjoy the hustle and bustle, but I found it all exciting. We ended the night eating burgers, drinking sangria and surfing the net at Zahara. Everyone in Spain nor every hotel in Spain has Internet access. Therefore, we had to access the Internet and long-distance calls at Internet cafes called Internetías. Zahara happened to have one below its dining area and bar. My friends - Dianna, Abby and Laura - sent me a video of them at the homecoming game at Kinston High School. (We lost, of course.) Anyhoo, they sent greetings from home and had me laughing in this public Internet cafe in Madrid. I love technology! (Sidebar: It was cold in Madrid. I'm definitely going to look up the weather before traveling again.)
DAY 3: Sunday, Oct. 21
We finally made it to the Reina Sofía National Museum and Art Center on Sunday morning. Wowza! ¡Qué guay! The museum housed more contemporary art of the 20th century and of today's artists. I was most excited about seeing the work of Salvador Dalí and Pablo Picasso, and I was not disappointed. And "Guernica" does exist! I've seen it! (Sidebar: I stole that tagline from a postcard.) You could easily spend more than four hours in the museum. We only could muster two.
Dalí - "El Gran Masturbador"
Picasso - "Guernica"
We were pooped after the Reina Sofía tour, so we ate the bomb ham and cheese sandwiches at El brillante. Spanish or Iberian ham is on another level of great taste. Anyhoo, we then headed to the Prado. There we saw a vast amount of paintings from several centuries. Some notable painters were "El Greco," Diego Velázquez, Francisco de Goya and Rembrandt. The paintings were usually of the same themes - royalty, Virgen Mary, the Cruxificion. I didn't like it as much as Reina Sofia, but I can now say that I've seen the famous Prado Musuem. The other visitors gave me something to look at too. We represented so many different countries and cultures, so I looked and listened to how people commented on the paintings in Dutch, Britiish English, Italian, etc. That was an experience within itself. After the two-hour tour, we had to go back to the hotel so I could retrieve my bags and head to Atocha to catch a train.
On the Metro from the Prado to the hotel to get my bags, Liz's wallet was stolen from her purse. Some gypsies pushed her into the car and got on either side of her. Liz said it was her fault because her purse was wide open. Hopefully, everything will turn out fine. But we all learned a good lesson: be careful and be aware of your belongings and who's watching them.
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
¡Baila! ¡Salsa!
I've been taking salsa classes for the past month and I am having too much fun. Tonight's class capped another great day. I literally yelped in class because I was finally getting 
the steps down with my partner. Three of my classmates also are taking the course - Katie, Sean and William. Katie's excellent, even for a Dukie (I'm joking.) She's a natural on the dance floor. And Sean picks things up so quickly. Will, or Guillermo as we call him in Spanish, always has the hugest grin on his face. Not only are we enjoying cuttin' a rug, but we're dancing with Spaniards and conversing with them. We try our Spanish skills on them, they try their English on us. It's a good deal. And our dance instructor, David, is so funny. Katie wants to stick him in her pocket and take him back to the States. Picture: Sean and Katie before a night of salsa dancing.
Earlier in the day, I took advantage of the lovely weather and strolled through parts of the city I hadn't seen before. And since admittance is free on Tuesdays to the Torre de Oro (Golden Tower), I decided to check it out. The tower is an 8th-century, Moorish tower built on the banks of the Guadalquivir River to protect the city against Christian attacks. The tower's not as grand as you think it should be, but it does the job. From the terrace, you can see for miles and miles. The wind blowing in your face and the wonderful view makes you appreciate living on God's vast earth. The inside of the tower is cool. The interior has been turned into a nautical museum, so it houses naval uniforms, boat replicas and other memorabilia of the sort.
My day of exploration wasn't over. The Modern Spain class took a trip to the Andalucían Parliament building, thanks to our wonderful teacher, Rafa. The Parliament resides here in Sevilla, the capital of Andalucía. (Sidebar: Andalucía is one of 17 autonomous communities that make up Spain.) Our guide, Bernardo, taught us about the former hospital around which the Parliament was built, the political composition of the 100+ representatives and so on. My classmates, teacher and I sat in the grand hall, where meetings take place. The room formerly was a Catholic church, so there are small chapels on the sidewalls and a large painting of saints on the wall behind the president's chair. (Sidebar: They cover that painting during sessions to stay within the separation of church and state.) Of course, I took the opportunity to check out what one of the representatives hides in his desk - there was nothing but writing utensils, of course. Then we all took pictures at the podium. What geeks! But we had a great time learning about policymaking, nonetheless.
From left to right: Me, Jill, Kareemah, Shairy and Sean pretending to be important.
Nearly the whole gang. My teacher, Rafael, is the man in the bottom right hand corner.
And this Friday, I'll be visiting my Aunt Dee Dee and her friend, Liz, in Madrid. Woo hoo!
(Sidebar: I'd like to give a shout out to my brother, Dajonte, who received his license today. to everybody in Kinston: Watch out for a gold Toyota Corolla.)
the steps down with my partner. Three of my classmates also are taking the course - Katie, Sean and William. Katie's excellent, even for a Dukie (I'm joking.) She's a natural on the dance floor. And Sean picks things up so quickly. Will, or Guillermo as we call him in Spanish, always has the hugest grin on his face. Not only are we enjoying cuttin' a rug, but we're dancing with Spaniards and conversing with them. We try our Spanish skills on them, they try their English on us. It's a good deal. And our dance instructor, David, is so funny. Katie wants to stick him in her pocket and take him back to the States. Picture: Sean and Katie before a night of salsa dancing.Earlier in the day, I took advantage of the lovely weather and strolled through parts of the city I hadn't seen before. And since admittance is free on Tuesdays to the Torre de Oro (Golden Tower), I decided to check it out. The tower is an 8th-century, Moorish tower built on the banks of the Guadalquivir River to protect the city against Christian attacks. The tower's not as grand as you think it should be, but it does the job. From the terrace, you can see for miles and miles. The wind blowing in your face and the wonderful view makes you appreciate living on God's vast earth. The inside of the tower is cool. The interior has been turned into a nautical museum, so it houses naval uniforms, boat replicas and other memorabilia of the sort.
My day of exploration wasn't over. The Modern Spain class took a trip to the Andalucían Parliament building, thanks to our wonderful teacher, Rafa. The Parliament resides here in Sevilla, the capital of Andalucía. (Sidebar: Andalucía is one of 17 autonomous communities that make up Spain.) Our guide, Bernardo, taught us about the former hospital around which the Parliament was built, the political composition of the 100+ representatives and so on. My classmates, teacher and I sat in the grand hall, where meetings take place. The room formerly was a Catholic church, so there are small chapels on the sidewalls and a large painting of saints on the wall behind the president's chair. (Sidebar: They cover that painting during sessions to stay within the separation of church and state.) Of course, I took the opportunity to check out what one of the representatives hides in his desk - there was nothing but writing utensils, of course. Then we all took pictures at the podium. What geeks! But we had a great time learning about policymaking, nonetheless.
From left to right: Me, Jill, Kareemah, Shairy and Sean pretending to be important.
Nearly the whole gang. My teacher, Rafael, is the man in the bottom right hand corner.
And this Friday, I'll be visiting my Aunt Dee Dee and her friend, Liz, in Madrid. Woo hoo!
(Sidebar: I'd like to give a shout out to my brother, Dajonte, who received his license today. to everybody in Kinston: Watch out for a gold Toyota Corolla.)
Monday, October 15, 2007
It's All Coming Together.
Last week, I was a wreck. I wanted to rebel against all things Spanish. I actually cried the bathroom of the university because I couldn't understand my literature professor and I couldn't find the correct library from which to check out books. Study abroad advisers warned us students that the rose-colored glasses would fall to the ground and shatter after awhile, leaving us with a period of backlash.
Then, they said, everything would be okay again. And this week, I am very glad to say that things have improved. Instead of rebelling, I've decided to accept and appreciate the differences between my new and old worlds. During this past weekend, I walked nearly all of Sevilla with my friend Sean. I began to appreciate the little parks nestled in between different neighborhoods, the people who almost hit you with their bikes and the narrow alleyways that lead you through a maze of apartment buildings and ice cream shops. Things are starting to click. The streets and sites are becoming familiar. I'm speaking and responding quicker. Spain is no longer a foreign place to me now -- it's home. To immerse myself further in the culture, I've joined a salsa class and I'm going to volunteer as a liaison between homeless people and agencies that can help them. And, of course, I'll continue to learn about the tasty Spanish food. My señora is calling me to dinner as I type. (Sigh.) I love Spain.
Then, they said, everything would be okay again. And this week, I am very glad to say that things have improved. Instead of rebelling, I've decided to accept and appreciate the differences between my new and old worlds. During this past weekend, I walked nearly all of Sevilla with my friend Sean. I began to appreciate the little parks nestled in between different neighborhoods, the people who almost hit you with their bikes and the narrow alleyways that lead you through a maze of apartment buildings and ice cream shops. Things are starting to click. The streets and sites are becoming familiar. I'm speaking and responding quicker. Spain is no longer a foreign place to me now -- it's home. To immerse myself further in the culture, I've joined a salsa class and I'm going to volunteer as a liaison between homeless people and agencies that can help them. And, of course, I'll continue to learn about the tasty Spanish food. My señora is calling me to dinner as I type. (Sigh.) I love Spain.
Saturday, October 13, 2007
Food - My Favorite Subject.
Whenever I've had a difficult morning at school trying to understand my professors, I just look forward to the wonderful lunch I'm going to have 3 o'clock. The food my host mother, Inés, prepares keeps me going. I don't have to go a restaurant to taste good Spanish cuisine, because Inés brings it to the table everyday. And I eat like a pig, but I've lost weight. I don't know if it's because Spaniards only cook with healthy olive oil, Inés serves each meal with a salad and a fruit or I walk so much. It doesn't matter because the Spanish diet is the best diet I've ever tried.
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Bull Crap
Sunday, I had the pleasure/misfortune of watching the last corrida de toros of the season at La Plaza de Toros de la Maestranza in Sevilla. A bullfight is a must-see for tourists and it's still popular for natives, of course. I knew that watching the bull die would not be pretty, but it didn't hit me until I saw it. It didn't hit me until I saw a bull vomiting blood after having his back muscles stabbed over and over again. 'It' is the feeling of shame, watching a animal die for no apparent reason. But as I went on to watch five more bulls die, I thought about the enormous amount of skill it takes to be a torero and the fact that I love to eat meat of other animals when I could very well become a vegetarian. I'm torn. I don't know whether I had the pleasure or misfortune of watching the bullfight. What do you think? Watch the videos below and answer the poll to the right.
(A picture of Meghan, Jori, Kim and I before the bullfight. I was so happy and naive.)
(A torero barely escapes the horns of an angry bull.)
(A banderillero sticks banderillas, or brightly colored sticks with harpoon points, in the bull's back to weaken its muscles. Afterward the torero continues to run the bull in circles with his cape and the bull continues to bleed. Finally, the torero stabs the bull's back with a sword and kills it.)
(A banderillero sticks banderillas, or brightly colored sticks with harpoon points, in the bull's back to weaken its muscles. Afterward the torero continues to run the bull in circles with his cape and the bull continues to bleed. Finally, the torero stabs the bull's back with a sword and kills it.)
(A picture of Meghan, Jori, Kim and I before the bullfight. I was so happy and naive.)
Ain't no concert like a Spanish concert...
Ain't no concert like a Spanish concert because a Spanish concert don't stop. Seriously. My friends (Katie, Kim and Jori) and I had seven hours of fun at Alejandro Sanz' concert. The concert was the last of his "El tren de los momentos" tour and the celebration of the centennial of the Real Betis fútbol club, so we knew we were going to have a great time. The Estadio Olímpico de Sevilla was abuzz with nearly 30,000 people adorned in green and white, the colors of Real Betis. Upon arrival, everyone received a free green or white T-shirt (and an In Touch magazine) by showing his/her concert ticket. On the shirt and our tickets, we realized that there were 13 amigos joining Alejandro, a native of Madrid or madrileño. We listened to the opening acts sing traditional Sevillanas songs, rap, pop and rock. When the traditional songs played, people in the stands and on the stage floor grabbed their partners and begin to dance the Sevillanas. (See the video.)
Between each song, the musicians would start a Real Betis chant. My favorite was:
All the verdiblancos would jump around with their banners and proudly display their affection for the soccer team. (Sidebar: Verdiblancos is the nickname for the fans based on Real Betis' colors, verde, or green, and blanco, or white.) Being an ultimate dork, I joined in, knowing that I would stick out like a sore thumb. But noone minded. Everyone was content while drinking Cruzcampo beer or smoking a cigarette every 45 minutes. Between the dancing and the soccer chants, I have never seen such a display of patriotism or love for history as I did Saturday night. (Sidebar: The next concert I go to in the States, I'm determined to start a Tar Heels chant.)
When the opening acts finished and the lights turned off, Katie and I had just finished a bathroom and refreshment break. So we tried to weasel through the crowd to get closer to Alejandro and our friends. We lost Kim and Jori, who ended up merely 20 feet away, but all enjoyed ourselves nonetheless. Alejandro played his greatest hits like Mi amiga mía and Quisiera ser and his newer hits like Te lo agradezco, pero no. Unfortunately, I have no idea what the songs are about. That's okay, I'll figure that out later. But the music was simply awesome! He had multi-cultural, international band of folks from New York, Argentina and Spain, of course. And he had more guest artists joined him on stage. Again, I have no idea who they were. But if they're friends of Alejandro, they're good with me. For his encore, the crowd shouted "Aaaa-le-jan-dro (Clap. Clap. Clap, Clap, Clap)," and "Otra. Otra. (Another song)" Then he came out, sang two more songs and pranced around with the Real Betis banner on his shoulders. (Sigh.) In the words of Frankie Valli, "Oh, what a night!"
My next ventures: learn the meaning of Alejandro's songs, attend a soccer game and marry a Spaniard who can sing Alejandro's songs to me. (Sidebar: I'm just joking Mom, Dad, aunts and uncles.)
(Sorry. Taking a photo of the screen was the best I could do.)
(Katie and I amidst the post-concert debris.)
(A picture of a lady's bum, which was taken while my friends and I were in line to get free T-shirts. Her jeans read "Don't touch," and she doesn't have to tell me twice.)
Between each song, the musicians would start a Real Betis chant. My favorite was:
"Junto. (Together.)
Siempre junto. (Forever together.)
Real Betis.
Siempre tuyos. (Forever yours.)"
All the verdiblancos would jump around with their banners and proudly display their affection for the soccer team. (Sidebar: Verdiblancos is the nickname for the fans based on Real Betis' colors, verde, or green, and blanco, or white.) Being an ultimate dork, I joined in, knowing that I would stick out like a sore thumb. But noone minded. Everyone was content while drinking Cruzcampo beer or smoking a cigarette every 45 minutes. Between the dancing and the soccer chants, I have never seen such a display of patriotism or love for history as I did Saturday night. (Sidebar: The next concert I go to in the States, I'm determined to start a Tar Heels chant.)
When the opening acts finished and the lights turned off, Katie and I had just finished a bathroom and refreshment break. So we tried to weasel through the crowd to get closer to Alejandro and our friends. We lost Kim and Jori, who ended up merely 20 feet away, but all enjoyed ourselves nonetheless. Alejandro played his greatest hits like Mi amiga mía and Quisiera ser and his newer hits like Te lo agradezco, pero no. Unfortunately, I have no idea what the songs are about. That's okay, I'll figure that out later. But the music was simply awesome! He had multi-cultural, international band of folks from New York, Argentina and Spain, of course. And he had more guest artists joined him on stage. Again, I have no idea who they were. But if they're friends of Alejandro, they're good with me. For his encore, the crowd shouted "Aaaa-le-jan-dro (Clap. Clap. Clap, Clap, Clap)," and "Otra. Otra. (Another song)" Then he came out, sang two more songs and pranced around with the Real Betis banner on his shoulders. (Sigh.) In the words of Frankie Valli, "Oh, what a night!"
My next ventures: learn the meaning of Alejandro's songs, attend a soccer game and marry a Spaniard who can sing Alejandro's songs to me. (Sidebar: I'm just joking Mom, Dad, aunts and uncles.)
(Sorry. Taking a photo of the screen was the best I could do.)
(A picture of a lady's bum, which was taken while my friends and I were in line to get free T-shirts. Her jeans read "Don't touch," and she doesn't have to tell me twice.)Saturday, September 29, 2007
Bummed out no longer.
I went to my first doctor's visit Thursday. It wasn't bad. I was able to understand everything the doctor said about my bum foot. Due to walking nearly two hours a day, back and forth from home and school, my right foot became swollen. I have very flat feet, so it's not hard to figure out why my foot has died on me. The doctor told me wear a bandage, to not walk, of course, and to take an anti-inflammatory pill in the morning and at at night. He also said I have to bath my foot in warm water for three to four minutes, do the same in cool water, dry it and then massage it with anti-inflammatory cream three times a day. The visit was free and I only had to pay 8 Euros for the two prescriptions. Yay, universal Spanish health care system!
The treatment is really paying off. My foot used to look like Eddie Murphy's foot in The Nutty Professor when he suddenly changed from thin, handsome Buddy Love to bloated Sherman Klump. Now, it's nearly back to normal. I've been cooped up in the apartment for the past three days as to stay off my feet, but tonight I'm going to enjoy the sounds of Alejandro Sanz. Sevilla is the last stop of his 2007 tour entitled "El tren de los momentos." I fell in love with Sanz during his 2002 Grammy performance with Destiny's Child, and a bum foot will not keep me away from him tonight. Woo hoo!
The treatment is really paying off. My foot used to look like Eddie Murphy's foot in The Nutty Professor when he suddenly changed from thin, handsome Buddy Love to bloated Sherman Klump. Now, it's nearly back to normal. I've been cooped up in the apartment for the past three days as to stay off my feet, but tonight I'm going to enjoy the sounds of Alejandro Sanz. Sevilla is the last stop of his 2007 tour entitled "El tren de los momentos." I fell in love with Sanz during his 2002 Grammy performance with Destiny's Child, and a bum foot will not keep me away from him tonight. Woo hoo!
Wednesday, September 26, 2007
When in Rome/Fighting the System
No, I haven't gone to Rome. But if the Romans have a more simple school system than the Sevillanos, I might give up paella for pizza. My classmates and I started school Monday at la Universidad de Sevilla. I walked in excited, with my schedule perfectly highlighted and marked. I just knew things were going to work out, (sigh)... but I was wrong.
Most U.S. students have a hard time adjusting in the fall. In the States, the fall semester begins in late August and ends in mid-December to enjoy the winter holidays. In Spain and other European countries, the semester begins in late September. Everyone takes a break for the winter holidays and resumes classes in January to finish the semester in late January of early February. It makes absolutely know sense to me.
The students in the UNC in Sevilla program have to leave in December, so we were forced to travel up and down the halls of La Universidad de Sevilla, sit in an hour-long class and then ask the professor if he/she will allow U.S. students to take the exam early. I got shot down three times by professors who weren't willing to budge. That meant I had to keep searching for classes for which I would receive transfer credit at UNC. I was about to spaz, but Ángeles, my program director, said, "Tranquila, Dioni. Tranquila."
Soon I started to having fun amidst the chaos. It was as if I were playing musical chairs with literature and philosophy classes. And, yes, I have finalized my schedule. I'm super-excited about one course, in which I'll study the Quran or el Corán. So I hope to graduate on time on
May 10, 2009. But if not, my excuse will be, "I got screwed by the system."
Here are some more key differences between the Spanish and U.S. university systems:
Most U.S. students have a hard time adjusting in the fall. In the States, the fall semester begins in late August and ends in mid-December to enjoy the winter holidays. In Spain and other European countries, the semester begins in late September. Everyone takes a break for the winter holidays and resumes classes in January to finish the semester in late January of early February. It makes absolutely know sense to me.
The students in the UNC in Sevilla program have to leave in December, so we were forced to travel up and down the halls of La Universidad de Sevilla, sit in an hour-long class and then ask the professor if he/she will allow U.S. students to take the exam early. I got shot down three times by professors who weren't willing to budge. That meant I had to keep searching for classes for which I would receive transfer credit at UNC. I was about to spaz, but Ángeles, my program director, said, "Tranquila, Dioni. Tranquila."
Soon I started to having fun amidst the chaos. It was as if I were playing musical chairs with literature and philosophy classes. And, yes, I have finalized my schedule. I'm super-excited about one course, in which I'll study the Quran or el Corán. So I hope to graduate on time on
May 10, 2009. But if not, my excuse will be, "I got screwed by the system."
Here are some more key differences between the Spanish and U.S. university systems:
- Tuition in Spanish public universities is very modest compared to those in the U.S. Tuition here can range from 500 to 800 Euros ($750 to $1200). But Spanish students don't have as many resources -- large gyms, campus health services or the many computer stations seen in the States.
- Nearly all of the students live at home and commute. Dorms are few and far between on Spanish campuses.
- The 'campus' of the Universidad de Sevilla is not centralized in the same sense as American universities. For example, UNC campus buildings are situated in one, very large area. Sevilla's campus is spread throughout town, so you have to catch a bus or walk for 30 minutes from the School of Geography and History to the School of Business. Sevilla has about five main, but separate locations.
- Due to the decentralized campus and other factors, Sevillano students are only allowed to take classes in one school. So Rafael could not receive a degree in Law and Medicine like I could double major in Journalism and Spanish. On the other hand, having only one concentration allows Sevillanos to have a profound wealth of knowledge in that one area.
- Each of the different disciplines or schools have its own system, including its own teachers, classrooms, exam schedules and beginning and ending dates of classes. It's not too different from schools in the States, but I showed up Monday to a history class to learn that the history department wouldn't start classes until Wednesday, but the Spanish Philology department began classes Monday. Each department has it's own copistería. A copistería is a Kinko's, of sorts, where students can buy photocopies, school supplies, textbooks and the 'syllabus' for each class. On UNC's campus, students visit a one-stop shop for class materials in several departments.
- The 'syllabus' in the states is an ironclad schedule of day-to-day events that lists your required text and due dates for homework, papers and exams. In Sevilla, the professor gives students a general list of themes and an optional bibliography. So students might not have homework and might not have read one book an entire semester.
- In the States, participation is usually a part of your grade. In Sevilla, the less participation the better.
- In Sevilla, learning is individual. Professors don't host study groups or review sessions and they might not attend their hours of consultation. At Carolina, our professors beg us to come to office hours and receive help. What a difference!
- The grading system here is based on a scale of one to 10. Below five is failing and a 10 is out-of-the-world amazing, because some teachers pride themselves on grading toughly.
- Library books are mainly for consultation in Sevilla, so you can check them out for months at a time. (I hear that's what people do at UNC.)
Sunday, September 23, 2007
The View from the Top.
Friday night, I went to a two-hour bachata dance class. A few friends and I are falling in love with the Spanish dance. There's no easy way to describe the dance in words, so view the video below. (Sidebar: I didn't create the video, but it was structured similarly to the class I attended. A couple in the background gets lost amidst the intricate, arm-twisting turns and I totally understand the couple's plight.)
Most people go stag to the classes, so the women end up in one line facing the guys. Then they pass us around like spinning tops when the teacher says "cambio' or change. I had to check with a few mean guys, a few rhythm-less guys, a few old guys and, of course, a few guys whose heads barely make it to my chin. When my friends and I left, we were thinking that we're definitely going to take some dance classes. Classes here are cheaper than those in the states.
We tried to find a good discoteca at which we could practice are new moves. But we walked through the entire historic district of Sevilla to no avail. The entrance at the discoteca we really liked cost 10 Euros. To that we said, "Uh huh!" and began to march home. On the way, my
friend Sean said, "I think I'm taking all this [history and architecture] for granted. I walk by the Cathedral everyday." He was correct. We had just toured La Catedral de Sevilla on Wednesday, and I walked by it as if it were nothing.
La Catedral de Sevilla is the largest Gothic church in the world and it's only 30 minutes away from my apartment. The cathedral, like many buildings in Spain, was built by Arabs and used to be a 12th-century mosque. La Giralda tower, the arches and the Patio de Naranjos, where the Muslims would wash their hands and feet before entering the main part of the cathedral. Three centuries later, when the cathedral was Christianized, Gothic architecture was added to the church. The large, stain glass windows, bell fry atop La Giralda, aisles separated by columns and high ceilings are Gothic elements. The height of the ceiling is nearly 138 feet. That's 20 Shaquille O'Neals standing on top of one another!
Of course, the most popular part of the cathedral is La Giralda. Everyone has to climb it -- all 32 ramps. There are no stairs because it was easier for the Arabs to ride their horses to the top. Believe me, the view from the top is worth the climb.
A view of La Giralda from El Patio de Naranjos (orange trees).
Most people go stag to the classes, so the women end up in one line facing the guys. Then they pass us around like spinning tops when the teacher says "cambio' or change. I had to check with a few mean guys, a few rhythm-less guys, a few old guys and, of course, a few guys whose heads barely make it to my chin. When my friends and I left, we were thinking that we're definitely going to take some dance classes. Classes here are cheaper than those in the states.
We tried to find a good discoteca at which we could practice are new moves. But we walked through the entire historic district of Sevilla to no avail. The entrance at the discoteca we really liked cost 10 Euros. To that we said, "Uh huh!" and began to march home. On the way, my
friend Sean said, "I think I'm taking all this [history and architecture] for granted. I walk by the Cathedral everyday." He was correct. We had just toured La Catedral de Sevilla on Wednesday, and I walked by it as if it were nothing.La Catedral de Sevilla is the largest Gothic church in the world and it's only 30 minutes away from my apartment. The cathedral, like many buildings in Spain, was built by Arabs and used to be a 12th-century mosque. La Giralda tower, the arches and the Patio de Naranjos, where the Muslims would wash their hands and feet before entering the main part of the cathedral. Three centuries later, when the cathedral was Christianized, Gothic architecture was added to the church. The large, stain glass windows, bell fry atop La Giralda, aisles separated by columns and high ceilings are Gothic elements. The height of the ceiling is nearly 138 feet. That's 20 Shaquille O'Neals standing on top of one another!
Of course, the most popular part of the cathedral is La Giralda. Everyone has to climb it -- all 32 ramps. There are no stairs because it was easier for the Arabs to ride their horses to the top. Believe me, the view from the top is worth the climb.
A view of La Giralda from El Patio de Naranjos (orange trees).
Wednesday, September 19, 2007
Over dinner.
My host sister, Ana, is quite the little comedian. She's 11 and just started the school year Monday. While at dinner Wednesday night, she told us that one of her teachers is a ruja, a witch. I asked why and she showed me how the teacher walks with her neck extended forward like a turtle and her back hunched up. Then Ana said the elderly teacher, who will retire in October, carries Pokémon and Barbie folders. I said maybe they were gifts from her grandchildren, but Ana's convinced the woman is crazy.
It's mandatory for the Spanish students to learn English and either French or Spanish. While we're trying to become fluent in Spanish, she's testing out her English on us. I must say, she's not bad. I guess it's due to her constantly singing the entire soundtrack from High School Musical 2 (two or dos, whichever you prefer).
Translation: I said, "You're crazy." Ana said, "I know."
(Sidebar: In Spain, eating meals as a family is very important. Most people return home for lunch and dinner, unless they all go to a restaurant. When everyone gets together, you watch the TV and comment on whatever was discussed on the news or what happened at school. It's very important to eat at the table too. Twice a day, my host mother has my roommate, Kareemah, Ana and I set the table. I'm talking about the Full Monty - changing table cloths, bringing out the bread basket and pitcher of water, setting the bowl on top of the plate and putting the fork to the left, the knife to the right and the cup at the 1 o'clock position above the plate. Then we sit down and she serves us. It's becoming more common in the States for Mom to cook dinner only to have the kids take their plates in the living room or in the bedroom. Think about it. Goldie Hawn and Roseanne Barr have to tell us the importance of sitting at the dining room table to dine and converse. If and when I have a family, I'll try to bring the Spanish tradition to my home.)
Picture: (From left to right.) My host sister, Ana, and her friend, Miriam, sit down to enjoy paella, a rice and seafood dish.
It's mandatory for the Spanish students to learn English and either French or Spanish. While we're trying to become fluent in Spanish, she's testing out her English on us. I must say, she's not bad. I guess it's due to her constantly singing the entire soundtrack from High School Musical 2 (two or dos, whichever you prefer).
"What time is it?Of course, I laughed and said, "Estás loca." Ana said, "Yo sé."
It's summer time. It's urh (our) vacation.
What time is it?
That’s right. Say you (it) loud.”
Translation: I said, "You're crazy." Ana said, "I know."
(Sidebar: In Spain, eating meals as a family is very important. Most people return home for lunch and dinner, unless they all go to a restaurant. When everyone gets together, you watch the TV and comment on whatever was discussed on the news or what happened at school. It's very important to eat at the table too. Twice a day, my host mother has my roommate, Kareemah, Ana and I set the table. I'm talking about the Full Monty - changing table cloths, bringing out the bread basket and pitcher of water, setting the bowl on top of the plate and putting the fork to the left, the knife to the right and the cup at the 1 o'clock position above the plate. Then we sit down and she serves us. It's becoming more common in the States for Mom to cook dinner only to have the kids take their plates in the living room or in the bedroom. Think about it. Goldie Hawn and Roseanne Barr have to tell us the importance of sitting at the dining room table to dine and converse. If and when I have a family, I'll try to bring the Spanish tradition to my home.)Picture: (From left to right.) My host sister, Ana, and her friend, Miriam, sit down to enjoy paella, a rice and seafood dish.
Sunday, September 16, 2007
I miss you, U.S.A.
I watched Pau Gasol miss a last-second shot Sunday night against Russia in the televised European FIBA Games. Poor Pau and the rest of the Spanish national team had to settle for the silver medal in the one-point loss. The Spaniards cried as Russia's Andrei Kirilenko posed with his MVP trophy and my host sister, Ana, chanted "ROO-see-ah, ROO-see-ah!" just because everyone else was rooting for Spain. I was sad for Pau, but happy to see something familiar - basketball. This week I've desperately wanted to watch a football, not futbol, game, a movie in English or eat a burger, dripping in grease. You know? To do something American. Well, I did visit Burger King, where you can get things "como tú quieras." But I only bought ice cream. I thought that was a good compromise between getting a taste of home and experiencing Spain fully. Other than that, I've had a blast this week learning about Spain's most prized monuments.
Wednesday, the UNC in Sevilla program visited Reales Alcazares or the royal buildings in Sevilla. In other words, we visited where King Juan Carlos I sleeps when he stays in Sevilla. The 14th century palace is open to the public when he's not living there, of course. It was built by the Moors, who weren't allowed to live in the palace. The Moorish influence are present in the colorful tile, arcs and geometric patterns. I could tell you more about the architecture, but I don't want to sound like a brochure.
A water fixture outside of the prince's bedroom.
Saturday, we visited La Mezquita in Córdoba. La Mezquita is another 8th-century Moorish wonder. In the 700s, the Moors began to occupy the central and southern parts of Spain and
didn't leave until the 1400s, when Spain ventured to America. That's why Moorish architecture still stands in many Spanish cities. Both the Reales Alcazares and La Mezquita are older than the U.S.A.
The word 'mezquita' is arabic for 'mosque' and it was a mosque until it was converted into a Christian cathedral in the 1200s. It was kind of weird to go to this Christian cathedral that's dominated by Islamic features - arcs, colorful tile and a courtyard with a pool for cleansing prior to entering the cathedral and a a fountain. The legend goes that if you drink from the fountain, you'll get a girl- or boyfriend fairly soon. (I drank from it four times. But who's counting?) When you enter the cathedral, you look up to see the red and white double arches and the nearly 1,000 columns made of jasper, marble and granite. Then the sights just continue - golden statues, domes and colors galore. We saw a wedding inside one of the many chapels that the cathedral rents out on donation. I thought that was cool. I was a bit overwhelmed by what I saw and La Mezquita's so wonderful. No photo I could take or words I could say would do it justice.
Wednesday, the UNC in Sevilla program visited Reales Alcazares or the royal buildings in Sevilla. In other words, we visited where King Juan Carlos I sleeps when he stays in Sevilla. The 14th century palace is open to the public when he's not living there, of course. It was built by the Moors, who weren't allowed to live in the palace. The Moorish influence are present in the colorful tile, arcs and geometric patterns. I could tell you more about the architecture, but I don't want to sound like a brochure.
Me. Notice the colorful, geometric patterns in the tile.
A water fixture outside of the prince's bedroom.Saturday, we visited La Mezquita in Córdoba. La Mezquita is another 8th-century Moorish wonder. In the 700s, the Moors began to occupy the central and southern parts of Spain and
didn't leave until the 1400s, when Spain ventured to America. That's why Moorish architecture still stands in many Spanish cities. Both the Reales Alcazares and La Mezquita are older than the U.S.A.The word 'mezquita' is arabic for 'mosque' and it was a mosque until it was converted into a Christian cathedral in the 1200s. It was kind of weird to go to this Christian cathedral that's dominated by Islamic features - arcs, colorful tile and a courtyard with a pool for cleansing prior to entering the cathedral and a a fountain. The legend goes that if you drink from the fountain, you'll get a girl- or boyfriend fairly soon. (I drank from it four times. But who's counting?) When you enter the cathedral, you look up to see the red and white double arches and the nearly 1,000 columns made of jasper, marble and granite. Then the sights just continue - golden statues, domes and colors galore. We saw a wedding inside one of the many chapels that the cathedral rents out on donation. I thought that was cool. I was a bit overwhelmed by what I saw and La Mezquita's so wonderful. No photo I could take or words I could say would do it justice.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
Do You Know What Today Is?
Today, I celebrate the two-week anniversary of my arrival in Spain while remembering the tragic terrorist attacks that hurt my nation six years ago. I can't believe it. First of all, it's hard to fathom that a lifelong dream has been realized. I'm in a new country, learning (or struggling with) a second language and culture. I'm eating foods I wouldn't have touched in the States (because I'm a picky eater) and I find myself giggling at the slightest of things just because of its novelty. For example, I smiled when I saw a Spanish brand of toothpaste. It's toothpaste! But here it's "crema dental," and that's so much more new and exciting.
But I will never look forward to the future days marked September 11. While eating paella, a popular rice and seafood dish, my host family and I looked at the local news anchor talk about 9/11. Everyone remembers where they were when they found out about the planes flying into the World Trade Center. My senora, Ines, remembers being home and having her eyes glued to the television for the rest of the day. She asked where was I, and my mind went back to the second floor of Kinston High School. My classmates and I were completing a lab assignment with the help of our Biology teacher, Ms. Dorcas Green. Other teachers ran in the class to tell Ms. Green to turn on the news. I was an ignorant ninth-grader who neither know what the World Trade Center was nor the aftermath its destruction would bring. I definitely know now. But we didn't celebrate this anniversary in Spain. It was quiet day. My compatriots and I didn't get in an Indian circle and cry. I didn't wear red, white and blue, or chant "U-S-A." I probably won't express myself in such ways anymore, but I'll always remember 9/11.
But I will never look forward to the future days marked September 11. While eating paella, a popular rice and seafood dish, my host family and I looked at the local news anchor talk about 9/11. Everyone remembers where they were when they found out about the planes flying into the World Trade Center. My senora, Ines, remembers being home and having her eyes glued to the television for the rest of the day. She asked where was I, and my mind went back to the second floor of Kinston High School. My classmates and I were completing a lab assignment with the help of our Biology teacher, Ms. Dorcas Green. Other teachers ran in the class to tell Ms. Green to turn on the news. I was an ignorant ninth-grader who neither know what the World Trade Center was nor the aftermath its destruction would bring. I definitely know now. But we didn't celebrate this anniversary in Spain. It was quiet day. My compatriots and I didn't get in an Indian circle and cry. I didn't wear red, white and blue, or chant "U-S-A." I probably won't express myself in such ways anymore, but I'll always remember 9/11.
Sunday, September 9, 2007
An Historic Weekend
Wow, this weekend has been busy. Sunday through Wednesday's are chill days; only tourists hang out then. Thursday is usually the start of the weekend for Sevillanos. To celebrate it, my friends and I went to La Carbonería to watch a flamenco show. Flamenco is a style of song, dance and music that originated from Andalusian Gypsies, but now it is one of Spain's cultural icon. (Andalusia is the southernmost region in Spain and Sevilla is the province's capital). Flamenco is characterized by its vigorous and rhythmic clapping and stamping of feet, which I loved. Granted La Carbonería caters to tourists, and we wouldn't know the difference between good and bad flamenco if it hit us with a car. But I thoroughly enjoyed the 15 to 20 minutes that I watched. The singer, whose eyes popped out and hands made numerous gestures to the crowd, was so passionate. And the ladies could stomp their hearts out. La Carbonería was literally hot that night. Tourists with American, English and Australian accents watched the show in awe while chugging down pitchers of beer and sangria, punch made of red wine, fruit juice, and soda water.
But the next day, we were back to business. My professor, Rafael, or Rafa for short, gave a one-and-a-half hour tour of the Archaeological Museum of Sevilla in preparation for Saturday's trip to view the Roman ruins of Itálica. The museum was originally built as part of the 1929 exhibition. Its focus is on the Romans, but there is also a prehistorical section which includes the Stone Age, Bronze Age and Iron Age. Later, the Phoenicians, the Greeks and the Carthaginians all traded and settled in what is now the province of Sevilla. We examined everything from perfume to bracelets to Roman money called denario to mosaics that take up entire floors. We looked at skulls with holes in them as a result of trepanation, a surgery in which a part of one's brain is removed to relieve ailments. Yikes! I don't even want to visit the dentist sometimes. It's amazing what people did 2,000 years ago without the use of the technology we often take for granted today. Much of the material in the museum was discovered in Itálica, including third century mosaics and statues of the goddess Venus and the emperors Hadrian and Trajan, who were born there.
A statue of the Roman goddess "Diana." My friend, Mary Katherine, hides behind her leg.
The next day, in the wee hours of the morning (9 a.m.), we traveled to Itálica. I knew it was going to be an 'interesting' visit because my professor, Rafa, told us that we would have to imagine houses and the like because this is a city of ruins. Basically, we looked at rocks. But these rocks have been in place since 206 B.C. Of course, the Romans had every amenity (Well, the rich Romans did. Only the homes of rich Romans were conserved in Itál
ica.) - intricate, underground plumbing, temples, marketplaces, paved roads and elaborate baths. The baths included cold bath stations, warm bath stations and gyms in the back for people to practice war-like sports like horseback riding. A typical Roman home included several bedrooms for the family and their most important workers and a mosaic laid on the floor each bedroom. A patio with a well stood in the center of the home and the owners rented out street side stores connected to their homes. I still cannot understand how our homes last more than 100 years and theirs last 2,000. What an accomplishment! (Picture: A close-up of a mosaic in La casa de los Pájaros or The house of Birds. Archaeologists named the houses by the mosaics.)
I couldn't wait to see the amphitheater. But the batteries in my camera died, so I didn't take any photos. We entered through the gallery to see where the animals and gladiators entered the
'stage.' Lions and bears from Africa walked through a separate tunnel and were lifted in a wooden elevator to the stage to fight people in front of thousands upon thousands of spectators. Rafa told us the gladiators weren't the gladiators we see in films; they were fat, ordinary people who used their blubber to protect their internal organs from cuts. And the government used the spectacles, which were free and included food, to appease the citizens whenever they weren't happy with the leadership. I wish Bush would pay for me to see the L.A. Lakers play the Cleveland Cavaliers. Anyhoo, I was overwhelmed by the grandeur of the amphitheater when we climbed to the stage. The pit in the center is at least two or three stories deep. The tiers of seats are even higher, and that's after much of the stadium has deteriorated. I can only imagine the amphitheater in its full state. Pictures: (1) Me, making a mockery of a statue of Emperor Hadrian in what would have been a temple.
Soon after, we hopped on the bus to go to Matalascañas in Huelva, another city in the Andalusian province that lies west of Sevilla. Some of my friends laid on the beach, some of us jumped right into the cold waters and some of us swam to 'the rock.' The rock is one of the remaining parts of a second century watch tower/lighthouse that fell. Our program director, Ángeles, told us neither to go toward nor jump off the rock because it's dangerous. Well, about 15 of us didn't heed her advice and have the scrapes to prove it. As I walked down the beach, I noticed that the entire family loves the beach. Wrinkled, hefty women in their bikinis proudly walked along side their toddler grandchildren, who were naked or only wore bottoms. And restaurants reside next to tanning beach-goers. So it was nothing, to go buy ice cream or calamari. Overall, it was a great day. Getting beach sand-pedicures and being wiped out by a few waves was a great ending to an historic weekend.
But the next day, we were back to business. My professor, Rafael, or Rafa for short, gave a one-and-a-half hour tour of the Archaeological Museum of Sevilla in preparation for Saturday's trip to view the Roman ruins of Itálica. The museum was originally built as part of the 1929 exhibition. Its focus is on the Romans, but there is also a prehistorical section which includes the Stone Age, Bronze Age and Iron Age. Later, the Phoenicians, the Greeks and the Carthaginians all traded and settled in what is now the province of Sevilla. We examined everything from perfume to bracelets to Roman money called denario to mosaics that take up entire floors. We looked at skulls with holes in them as a result of trepanation, a surgery in which a part of one's brain is removed to relieve ailments. Yikes! I don't even want to visit the dentist sometimes. It's amazing what people did 2,000 years ago without the use of the technology we often take for granted today. Much of the material in the museum was discovered in Itálica, including third century mosaics and statues of the goddess Venus and the emperors Hadrian and Trajan, who were born there.
Me, outside of the Museum.
A statue of the Roman goddess "Diana." My friend, Mary Katherine, hides behind her leg.The next day, in the wee hours of the morning (9 a.m.), we traveled to Itálica. I knew it was going to be an 'interesting' visit because my professor, Rafa, told us that we would have to imagine houses and the like because this is a city of ruins. Basically, we looked at rocks. But these rocks have been in place since 206 B.C. Of course, the Romans had every amenity (Well, the rich Romans did. Only the homes of rich Romans were conserved in Itál
ica.) - intricate, underground plumbing, temples, marketplaces, paved roads and elaborate baths. The baths included cold bath stations, warm bath stations and gyms in the back for people to practice war-like sports like horseback riding. A typical Roman home included several bedrooms for the family and their most important workers and a mosaic laid on the floor each bedroom. A patio with a well stood in the center of the home and the owners rented out street side stores connected to their homes. I still cannot understand how our homes last more than 100 years and theirs last 2,000. What an accomplishment! (Picture: A close-up of a mosaic in La casa de los Pájaros or The house of Birds. Archaeologists named the houses by the mosaics.)I couldn't wait to see the amphitheater. But the batteries in my camera died, so I didn't take any photos. We entered through the gallery to see where the animals and gladiators entered the
'stage.' Lions and bears from Africa walked through a separate tunnel and were lifted in a wooden elevator to the stage to fight people in front of thousands upon thousands of spectators. Rafa told us the gladiators weren't the gladiators we see in films; they were fat, ordinary people who used their blubber to protect their internal organs from cuts. And the government used the spectacles, which were free and included food, to appease the citizens whenever they weren't happy with the leadership. I wish Bush would pay for me to see the L.A. Lakers play the Cleveland Cavaliers. Anyhoo, I was overwhelmed by the grandeur of the amphitheater when we climbed to the stage. The pit in the center is at least two or three stories deep. The tiers of seats are even higher, and that's after much of the stadium has deteriorated. I can only imagine the amphitheater in its full state. Pictures: (1) Me, making a mockery of a statue of Emperor Hadrian in what would have been a temple. Soon after, we hopped on the bus to go to Matalascañas in Huelva, another city in the Andalusian province that lies west of Sevilla. Some of my friends laid on the beach, some of us jumped right into the cold waters and some of us swam to 'the rock.' The rock is one of the remaining parts of a second century watch tower/lighthouse that fell. Our program director, Ángeles, told us neither to go toward nor jump off the rock because it's dangerous. Well, about 15 of us didn't heed her advice and have the scrapes to prove it. As I walked down the beach, I noticed that the entire family loves the beach. Wrinkled, hefty women in their bikinis proudly walked along side their toddler grandchildren, who were naked or only wore bottoms. And restaurants reside next to tanning beach-goers. So it was nothing, to go buy ice cream or calamari. Overall, it was a great day. Getting beach sand-pedicures and being wiped out by a few waves was a great ending to an historic weekend.
Tuesday, September 4, 2007
Labor Day
While you all were eating red Frosty Morn hot dogs at a cook out to celebrate Labor Day or wondering why Bush made a surprise visit to Iraq, I was performing the nearly impossible task of talking with my host mother, Ines, and her daughter, Ana.
I love them and they have demonstrated the best hospitality, but trying to hold a long conversation with them only leaves me with a headache. After each rolling tongue-filled and rapid-paced conversation, I have to debrief in English with my roommate, Kareemah. And when Ines and Ana talk with each other, forget it! I find myself staring at each of their mouths -- back and forth, back and forth. It's as if I'm watching a tennis match. Granted my Spanish-speaking abilities aren't so poor that I can't understand anything or get around. I just have problems with new vocabulary and answering in a timely fashion. I tend to (1) listen to what Ines and Ana say, (2) translate it in English, (3) think of what I want to say in English, (4) translate my thoughts into Spanish and (5) , finally, say it. It's an arduous and ineffective process. But Ines is patient and says Kareemah and I are doing well, although we often ask her to repeat what she said or slow down, saying , "Repite, por favor." and "Despacio." Ines said in two months things will start to click. I sure hope so. Right now, I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel.
I love them and they have demonstrated the best hospitality, but trying to hold a long conversation with them only leaves me with a headache. After each rolling tongue-filled and rapid-paced conversation, I have to debrief in English with my roommate, Kareemah. And when Ines and Ana talk with each other, forget it! I find myself staring at each of their mouths -- back and forth, back and forth. It's as if I'm watching a tennis match. Granted my Spanish-speaking abilities aren't so poor that I can't understand anything or get around. I just have problems with new vocabulary and answering in a timely fashion. I tend to (1) listen to what Ines and Ana say, (2) translate it in English, (3) think of what I want to say in English, (4) translate my thoughts into Spanish and (5) , finally, say it. It's an arduous and ineffective process. But Ines is patient and says Kareemah and I are doing well, although we often ask her to repeat what she said or slow down, saying , "Repite, por favor." and "Despacio." Ines said in two months things will start to click. I sure hope so. Right now, I can't see the light at the end of the tunnel.
Sunday, September 2, 2007
Saturday - The Hunt is On
After partying Friday night, I had to get up early to meet my classmates at Hotel Alcazar at 10 a.m. For what, you ask? I had no idea. The directors just told us to wear comfortable shoes, which meant we were going to be on our feet for awhile. T
hat was the correct instinct. The 47-man group was broken into groups of four or five and given instructions for a scavenger hunt. Woo-hoo! My group discovered the Historic District of Sevilla while other groups ventured elsewhere. We had to carry out tasks, such as retrieving the schedule or horario of a bus trip to Cadiz and taking photos of at least two monuments on La Avenida de Constitucion (i.e. Universidad de Sevilla, Hotel Alfonso XIII and La Puerta de Jerez). On our hunt, we stopped to take photos of La Catedral de Sevilla. Its grandeur and architecture are astounding. I'll have to go back to thoroughly inspect and appreciate it, though.
We all ended up at La Plaza Nueva in front of City Hall or El Ayuntamiento. (Sidebar: The prize for the first group to complete their tasks and arrive at City Hall: a pen bearing the emblem of EUSA.) Wedding parties and guests stood outside of the large and beautiful City Hall, which stands at the entrance of La Plaza Nueva. The plaza is a maze of shops and restaurants (i.e. the famous Campana. There were sells or rebajas galore. The sales associates were very accommodating to us Americans who sometimes have difficulty speaking Spanish. The plaza also is a place for random vendors to sell jewelry on the street and for musicians to pub their albums. The plaza was a meeting place for everyone - old couples, punk kids, gypsies and families. And understandably so, because their were shops from every type of consumer. Me encanta mucho. But I returned home to eat a lunch of empanadas, a pastry with tuna and tomato sauce filling, and fried chicken and, of course, to take a siesta.
After dinner...
My friends and I headed out in search of a discoteca. What can I say? The Latin rhythm-laced music was calling us. Eight of us danced to the techno, pop and salsa music. I must say that some people looked at us like we were crazy. Apparently, Americans or maybe just us do things differently than Sevillanos at a discoteca, such as sing along with the songs loudly, clap to the songs and, let's say, dance in a more sexual manner. Most of the locals at the discoteca neither dance as to call excessive attention to themselves or sweat. They were just cool, calm and collected.
Other observation(s):
1. There is a heavy American influence in Spain. From food to entertainment, there are visible imprints everywhere. The sayings about Starbucks rings true; they are at every corner is some sections of Sevilla. McDonald's, Burger King and Pizza Hunt have planted their flags here. Also, most of the movies and sitcoms shown on TV are American (i.e. E.R. and Friends) Even the music of Rihanna and the good-natured High School Musical series reign supreme.
hat was the correct instinct. The 47-man group was broken into groups of four or five and given instructions for a scavenger hunt. Woo-hoo! My group discovered the Historic District of Sevilla while other groups ventured elsewhere. We had to carry out tasks, such as retrieving the schedule or horario of a bus trip to Cadiz and taking photos of at least two monuments on La Avenida de Constitucion (i.e. Universidad de Sevilla, Hotel Alfonso XIII and La Puerta de Jerez). On our hunt, we stopped to take photos of La Catedral de Sevilla. Its grandeur and architecture are astounding. I'll have to go back to thoroughly inspect and appreciate it, though.We all ended up at La Plaza Nueva in front of City Hall or El Ayuntamiento. (Sidebar: The prize for the first group to complete their tasks and arrive at City Hall: a pen bearing the emblem of EUSA.) Wedding parties and guests stood outside of the large and beautiful City Hall, which stands at the entrance of La Plaza Nueva. The plaza is a maze of shops and restaurants (i.e. the famous Campana. There were sells or rebajas galore. The sales associates were very accommodating to us Americans who sometimes have difficulty speaking Spanish. The plaza also is a place for random vendors to sell jewelry on the street and for musicians to pub their albums. The plaza was a meeting place for everyone - old couples, punk kids, gypsies and families. And understandably so, because their were shops from every type of consumer. Me encanta mucho. But I returned home to eat a lunch of empanadas, a pastry with tuna and tomato sauce filling, and fried chicken and, of course, to take a siesta.
After dinner...
My friends and I headed out in search of a discoteca. What can I say? The Latin rhythm-laced music was calling us. Eight of us danced to the techno, pop and salsa music. I must say that some people looked at us like we were crazy. Apparently, Americans or maybe just us do things differently than Sevillanos at a discoteca, such as sing along with the songs loudly, clap to the songs and, let's say, dance in a more sexual manner. Most of the locals at the discoteca neither dance as to call excessive attention to themselves or sweat. They were just cool, calm and collected.
Other observation(s):
1. There is a heavy American influence in Spain. From food to entertainment, there are visible imprints everywhere. The sayings about Starbucks rings true; they are at every corner is some sections of Sevilla. McDonald's, Burger King and Pizza Hunt have planted their flags here. Also, most of the movies and sitcoms shown on TV are American (i.e. E.R. and Friends) Even the music of Rihanna and the good-natured High School Musical series reign supreme.
Friday - A Day of Sleeping and Partying
I'm still adjusting to the six-hour time difference, so I'm taking full advantage of the siesta. From 2 to 5 p.m. in Spain, everything except some restaurants close and people take a nap or rest. No one shops or goes to the park. It's as if Sevilla becomes a ghost town. After my senora Ines serves lunch and we watch a movie on channel cuatro, I go to bed. I sleep until night falls. Then I'm ready to take part in the Sevillian nightlife.
Thursday, some friends and I visited a stand-and-talk bar, or at least that's what I'll call it. The entrance to Chile terraza was free and the drinks costs around 5.50 Euros or roughly $7.65. (Sidebar: The official drinking age in Spain in 18, three years younger than in the U.S. But people usually start drinking at a younger age.) The locals looked like they were out of a movie or, for the lack of a better comparison, a sophisticated music video. The men had perfectly gelled hair, wore ties and had freshly-pressed button-down shirts tucked into their slim-fitting dark jeans. The women wore the latest fashion - dressy flats or stilettos, baby doll dresses, and skinny jeans.) My friends and I looked a tad under dressed in our T-shirts, tank tops, jean skirts and Bermuda shorts. We wanted to fit in, so we opted not to take pictures (which is expected of tourists), but to buy drinks and converse with the locals. We finally got up enough nerve to talk with a few 30-something guys, who said we spoke Spanish well for being in the country only two days. They told us that Sevillanos party hard from Thursday to Saturday from midnight to 5 a.m. When we decided to leave Chile at 3:30, our new friends thought we were leaving too early. We were a little surprised to see that the bar's parking lot was full of people standing near their diminutive cars, talking and drinking. The scene didn't vary much from that outside of a U.S. club.
Other observation(s):
1. It's hot. The climate here isn't too different than that of North Carolina, but the temperature hovers around 100 degrees Fahrenheit in high afternoon. I think Spaniards take siestas later in the afternoon because the heat has drained them of their energy. I'll research that theory later.
2. My roommate, Kareemah, and I have received a few strange looks from locals. I don't know if it's because we are Americans or African Americans. When we were walking to the bar, a man asked Kareemah if she was a prostitute. In our required reading, The New Spaniards, John Hooper writes that there are few people of African descent in Spain. Most are poor so some women resort to selling their bodies to earn a living. Perhaps, that man thought we were apart of that group.
3. Every lunch and dinner consists of salad, bread and cheese, an entree and a dessert. Dessert can be anything from a fruit to a a cup of coffee and a cake- or cookie-like pastry.
4. I have yet to see a house. There are many apartment complexes and skyscrapers. Homes are apartments that rest atop of stores. It seems that everything is built vertically to maximize the space.
5. I knew that futbol or soccer is taken very seriously, but I didn't realize how much soccer players or futbolistas are heralded here. A few soccer players recently collapsed on the field and died shortly after. Antonio Puerta, a Sevilla Futbol Club player, died last week and Sevillanos attended his funeral Wednesday in droves. I had no idea why certain streets were packed until I saw the evening news. Futbolistas in Spain are national idols similar to basketball players in the U.S.
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