Spain

So after a week of doing absolutely nothing (fearing to go too far from ‘el baño’), it was time to get out and about. Marissa was planning to go to Valencia for the weekend and I, ready to get the heck out of Córdoba and shake the last week off called up Sarah (my other future roommate studying in Spain) and two hours later, and just a few hours before our train left, I bought my train tickets and planned to meet up with Sarah there…I love seeing people from home!

A short night sleep later we boarded the 6 hour train to Valencia, home of Valencia oranges, Tomatino (the tomato throwing festival), Paella, Agua de Valencia (Spanish version of mamosas), Horchata de Chufa (made with Chufas, a peanut like nut instead of rice), and gorgeous buildings. I know the last doesn’t sound as exciting as the rest, but Valencia really got the whole architecture thing down right. They found the perfect mix of clean and modern, while maintaining some of the old style and even adding gargoyles to match the architecture of some of the remaining castle walls and churches.

We arrived on Friday afternoon to some light rain and real winter weather. Sweater, Jacket, Scarf, and Boots worthy weather! Wandered the city a little bit before settling in a colourful (by that I mean ever floor was a different color) hostel in the old town. Valencia is on the eastern coast of Spain in the Autonomous Community of Valencia, it’s the 3rd largest city in Spain after Madrid and Barcelona and home to the (new) and famous Cuitat de Les Artes I Les Ciencies (Valenciano for City of Art and Science). We reserved the Ciutat for the following day and instead spent our first 24 hours walking the old town and the sites, and tasting real chestnuts…yes, they were roasted over and open fire!

Valencia is home to the Mercado Central (imagine Pike Street market in Seattle, mixed with the farmer´s market and put under the roof of what looks like an old train station and you have Valencia´s central market). Breakfast was a combination of fresh citrus, oranges and clementinas, from the market, after which we hopped across the street to check out the Lonja. The Lonja looks like a church without an alter or pews, and was the site of the 16th century market in Valencia. We forged on, full of yummy orange-y past the Plaza del Ayuntamiento with its gorgeous fountain and flower vendors, and headed toward the Plaza de la Reina and el Catedral. The Catedral in Valencia would be much like any other cathedral in Spain except that this cathedral is home to ‘La Capilla de Santo Cáliz’ or The Chapel of the Holy Grail. Yes…all you Monty Python fans, I have found the Holy Grail, the quest is over! The not so ornate gold chalice, said to be the chalice drunk from at the Last Supper, is encased in glass behind the chapel’s alter, and while you cant really get close enough to see too many details, I can now say that I have seen ‘El Santo Grail’.

Since we were in church-mode, we decided to cross the park (a river-like park that snakes its way through the city) to the Iglesia de Santa Monica, for a little vanity tourism. But the powers at be were keeping my ego in check, and my namesake church was closed. I had to admire it from outside and be satisfied with the small park just outside the church doors. It was about time to head to the train station to meet Sarah and her friends who were coming in from Alicante, so Marissa and I headed that direction, stopping along the way at a delicious looking bakery we had spotted the night before next to the 200 year old Horchatería.
A couple hours later, all the girls were settled into our hostel and we were on our way to the bus stop bound for the Art and Science Center. The center is divided into 4 parts, only 3 of which are finished. We arrived, walking over and under this botanical modern hallway-type-thing made of hundreds of white iron arches. Then climbed downstairs onto the entrance level of the center. We first headed into the Museu de Les Ciencies Principe Felipe on one side of the large modern walkway, bordered on either side by a shallow light blue pool that gives the effect that the very modern, intricately curved buildings have sprouted out of the serene blue. We entered on one side of the hands-on science museum and made our way up to level one of the exhibits. After bending light rays, changing the tone of our voice, experimenting with mirror illusions and two-way mirrors, we moved test our memories by trying to draw a Euro from memory, or sketch a map of Europe, examining brain cells of Alzheimer patients, and even got to watch a chick hatch out of an egg (note to self, add chick to list of possible pets…and farmer to give it to when its not cute and fuzzy yellow anymore). Then we moved on to my favourite part of the exhibit, ‘Deportes’ (sports). Here you could see how high you jumped and if it was high enough to be a professional rugby player, you could time your 10m sprint, shoot hoops, pretend to be John McEnroe (although a John McEnroe in a rare calm state to save yourself from getting kicked out of the exhibit), measure your height in meters (I am 1.66m) and all while learning who, what, when, where, why, and how?

We only gave ourselves 2 ½ hours in the exhibits before heading to our IMAX show about adrenaline and risk. We didn’t even get to really check out the 3rd floor, but hey, there’s always next time (Ha!). So part II of the science center is called L´Hemisfèric and is the huge dome screen with reclined seats used for Planetarium, laser, and IMAX shows. Of the few offered IMAX shows the next available one was about adrenaline and risk sports. As you laid in the seats, with your headset, which you could select to listen to the show in English, Castellano (our Spanish), or Valenciano, watching a huge screen about adrenaline junkies, we felt pretty ridiculous, but it was actually really neat. It confirmed my desire to skydive, and also my complete lack of desire to base jump (skydiving, but jumping off a cliff, and without a back-up parachute).

After the show, we decided to skip part III, L’Oceanogràfic, a huge biodome/aquarium type thing (after having just been to a stellar biodome in Montreàl, I didn’t really feel the need to drop 20 Euros, $25, on entrance to another one) and headed back to get ready for dinner.

Valencia is famous for many things, but it is the birthplace of Paella. A rice dish made with meat or fish, flavoured and coloured bright yellow with saffron. Paella is actually the name of the HUGE wok-type pan used to cook the food in, but the original name, Arroz de Paella, has just been shortened to Paella. Finding a restaurant that was serving the dish was a little harder than we expected, but when we finally settled into a place, the search and the wait was well worth it. Entertaining ourselves with fun girl talk, there were 6 of us, and a few pitchers of Agua de Valencia, the ½ wait for the freshly prepared Paella de Mariscos (seafood paella) flew by. We stuffed ourselves with the amazing rice dish to the point where it tasted so good we all wanted more, but couldn’t fit another bit into our stomachs (not that there was much left in the pan anyway, between the 6 of us, we downed almost an entire pan, about 18” in diameter…no joke!). After the incredible dinner, we were not about to call it a night and headed out.

Bar #1 was a Cuban club, playing all sorts of fun music but the crowd seemed a little older. We hung out for a few and after being offered birthday cake for a 47 year-olds birthday party, we decided to change scenery, and try and find a place a little more in our (how I say this nicely?), generation. Bar #2 was the Irish pub down the street from our hostel. Murrayfield (how Irish) sold my favourite beer, Paulaner, and had rugby stuff cluttering the walls. We hung out for a while and by the time we climbed down the stairs to head out, the place was packed, and a haze of cigarette smoke. Bar #3, the last for the night, was on the way back to the hostel, and was packed. We spent the end of the night dancing away to horrible music with English words and the repetitive Spanish beat that is the base for all club songs here. Nevertheless, it was fun, and we got to stare at the Spanish version of George Clooney (a.k.a. the bouncer) while dancing our little hearts out.

After that, we headed back to the hostel to get some sleep before our train left the next morning. Getting out again was a nice way to shake off being sick and see a new part of Spain. Also, it was so great to get to see Sarah and have someone around from home that knows about my life before Spain, its nice to have that perspective and that level of comfort, especially this far away from home!

So, that was my weekend. Next weekend its off to Salamanca, east of Madrid to see Kiki, and after that maybe Barcelona, and then Berlin to visit Laura and her family the first week of December. Its starting to feel like the end is in sight, as there are only 5 weeks left in the program, but there is still lots to do, and lots to learn, so I have to remember to stay focused on being here in the moment…aaahhh, always difficult for me. But, I may only do this once, so I better do it right, right?!!!

So, as if being sick doesnt suck enough, try doing it 6000 miles from home without any normal medicines or doctor or any of those comfort things. Moroccos was amazing, that is very true, but even more memorable is something I like to refer to as “La revancha de los Almoravides!” Consider it the Moroccan version of Mexico´s Montezuma´s revenge. While we all suffered some bowel discomfort after the trip, my experience was unique. Not only was that taken to a whole new level, but I managed to get a nice little virus somewhere. On Wednesday, my first day back at school, I started to feel flu-ish and by the time I got home that night I had a fever, chills and couldn’t eat a thing. For the next 4 days I split my time laying curled up on my bed and the bathroom, and trying to sleep, the only remedy for what seemed like a slow tortuous death.

In addition, a wonderful wave of homesickness set in and, well, lets just say it was a rough week.

On Monday I headed back to school, feeling like I had things “under control” although not 100% yet. By Wednesday I could eat normal foods again and Thursday gave way to Friday and I felt pretty good. I was so tired of sitting around and I was ready to shake off the whole sickness/homesickness thing and get outta town, and the perfect opportunity came up!

Just thought you would all want to know that this morning, as I walked past the butcher on my way to school (one of the few businesses open at that hour) I saw him hack off the feet of a chicken....yuck! Not that im eating much chicken these days with the whole bird flu thing over here, but that was just waaaaaayy too graphic for 8am.

Autumn just smells different. The leaves, fresh rain, a fireplace burning somewhere or someone cooking, and more leaves all mesh together and its one of the few scents Illuminations hasn’t figured out how to put in a candle yet. Then there are the sounds. Leaves falling, being kicked around or raked, dogs on walks, kids all bundled up in parks, chitter-chatter when familiar faces pass each other on the streets, grandparents cooing at their grandkids in those old fashioned baby carriages, the clanking of bread pans as they take them out of the oven and one by one place the bread on the racks in the windows and behind the counter so you can pick yours out and take it home for that days meals. And best of all there are those innocent bystanders (aka tourists) who get to take it all in!

If that picture wasn’t the most clichéd description of fall, then I don’t know what is, but in all honesty, that is what País Vasco (Basque Country) of Spain looks like. This weekend I hopped a bus to Málaga, stayed for one night in the cute little coastal town in southern Andalucía before catching my plane bright and early the next morning (yeah, that’s right, I was up at 4am on the first day of my weekend). But, the nice thing about early morning flights is they give you the rest of the day at your final destination. So, I arrived in Bilbao, where I met Kiki (the same friend from home that I have gotten to see for the last 3 weekends...my life rocks!!), and her roommate Clancey, and we hopped on a bus to destination #1 in País Vasco: San Sebastian. The Basque call it Donostía, but during Franco´s Fascist regime, he refused to let the Basque differentiate themselves from the rest of Spain, and was called San Sebastian instead.

When you arrive in Donstía, you first drive through the beautiful green mountains and rolling hillsides, very Celtic. Then past some small herds of sheep and goats, very ‘Heidi’, before popping out into the small (170,000 people) town just south of the French border on the coast of the Atlantic Ocean. The population here quadruples in the summer months, but we thoroughly enjoyed missing the crowds and took the town at a leisurely pace. Our pension (different from a hostal in that hostals are usually entire buidings and are run by a company, pensions are people renting out rooms on a floor that they own…but not as sketchy as they sound) was great. It was located right in the heart of the old town, Parte Vieja, in the middle of all the shopping, tapas bars, old stone Baroque cathedral, Bahía de la Concha, and River Urumea. Prime locale!

We set our stuff down and headed out to explore, heading towards the famous beaches of the Bahía de la Concha (Bay of the Shell). ABSOLUTELY GORGEOUS are the two words best describing San Sebastian. If you like the beach this is the place for you. If you like the mountains, likewise. If you have a hankering for the small town feel, get lost in old town, or cross the river and you can be in the ‘big city’ with the Kursaal Conference Center, or fit right into Basque life while picking up your groceries and flowers at the small market in the barrio Gros (Gros neighbourhood). Anyway, our walk took us around the horseshoe shaped bay to the Palacio Miramar, whose green lawns you can see from across the bay. As we are accustomed to the tradition of siesta here in Spain, we headed back for a little R&R when the shops closed up for siesta.

When dinner time rolls around in Basque Country, the chefs roll up their sleeves and go to town. In País Vasco, tapas is done differently, and I like it. It has all the appeal of a buffet, getting to see what your food looks like before eating it and only taking exactly what you want in the exact amount you want it. The camarero (bartender/waiter) hands you a large plate and you stroll down the bar where all the tapas are laid out. Montaditos and bocadillos (small sandwiches) with all sorts of seafood and veggies, Spanish tortilla, crab cakes on toast, pastry tarts filled with seafood salad, ham, of course, and more! We each grabbed a plate and took a few to try. I am a huge fan of artichoke hearts Spanish style…just finely chop up lots of onion and red and green pepper and with a little olive oil dump it all on top of skewered artichoke hearts..enjoy! We felt the need to walk off our dinner passing by plenty of other tapas bars laid out the same way. The people just spill into the streets, mostly standing and just talking, sipping, and munching on yummy foods.

We headed back towards the bay to see it all lit up and, oh wow, it was still gorgeous! I love this part of Spain, my motivation to leave just kept declining as the weekend went on too! After our small walk we had cleared out enough room in our tummies for some ice cream. We found the best ice cream place in all of Spain on the main road, and after many many many minutes of indecisiveness, I picked Avellana (hazelnut) and Leche Merengada (the ice cream version of leche canela limon) to finish off the night!

Saturday morning we woke up to the hussle and bustle of small town mornings. From out our window we could see all the little old ladies pulling behind them their little carts, soon to be full of yummy things from the butcher, the baker, and the candlestick maker (well, not really, but people do buy their meat at one store, their veggies at another, and their bread at yet another…gotta love the Spanish inefficiency, especially in small towns). We headed out for the day to Monte Igueldo, peak on the far side of the bay from us. We walked along the ‘boardwalk’ again, and decided, after seeing a ridiculous amount of runners, that if you are under 45 and living in San Sebastian, you have to run!!! And I don’t mean brisk walk or light jog, you better run!

We got to Monte Igueldo and took the funicular (a train on tracks at 45ª) to the top to see the most gorgeous views of the city. From the bay to the mountains far beyond the city, and 300ª around, San Sebastian was, again, absolutely beautiful. We decided to walk back down and back towards the Parte Vieja for lunch. On the way we passed the 3 types of people that come/live in San Sebastian. Type 1: 65 and older adorable couples with matching outfits (including swimsuits and caps) that happily and leisurely enjoy life and everything in it (Although, Grandma and Grandpa, these guys dont have anything on you…you guys are way cuter, and much younger of course!) Type 2: Shout out to all the young families, this is where you should be in the first years of your child/children´s lives. As long as you dress them all in matching outfits and take them to the park for hours on end, you can pass for Basque. Type 3: the hopelessly romantic couples who are of course all over each other, but not in the gross, over-obsessive way they are in the rest of Spain, its much cuter because everyone looks like they stepped out of the pages of a J.CREW catalogue.

So, now that we have established that we couldn’t stand out anymore, we took shelter under an umbrella at a table in the plaza for some bocadillos. The day got more exciting from there. The table next to us had finished eating and paid the tab, leaving it on the table, as is customary here. As soon as they had walked away, this shady guy walks by and grabs the money and runs off, out of the plaza and around the corner. The waiter runs after him but came back empty handed. We witnessed a Spanish robbery! Not that Im proud of it, but definitely a new experience. When we finished we took our tab up to the bar to pay and headed out to walk around. After exhausting the streets in the Gros, and watching every last shop close up for siesta we went back to the pension, climbed up the 2 stories (in Spain that means anywhere from 2 to 5 flights of stairs) just in time to escape the rain. The rest of the night was a relaxing combination of more eating, relaxing, ice cream (more eating), and people watching.

The next day we headed back to Bilbao. We hopped the bus and arrived in Bilbao and headed to the Guggenheim museum (also in Italy and New York). The Architecture of the building is the real attraction. The exhibits are rotating but the building, made of limestone covered in titanium tiles is the real attraction. Designed by Frank Gehry and opened in 1997 the building looks like a silver version of the Sydney Opera House that sort of reorganized itself so that all the arches are pointing in different directions. Gehry said he was inspired by carp, a fish from his childhood memories, and the river and fountains that surround the museum support this theme. We walked around, taking it in from all aspects before doing the classic tourist move, skipped the museum exhibits and shot straight to the gift shop for postcards of this modern, 21st century, piece of art!

The rest of the day consisted of walking around the city including its old town, called Casca Vieja, but by 2pm the crowds had died out and the ‘Sunday’ thing set in. There was nothing to do. We spent the day wandering aimlessly and sitting in the park. People watching was the extent of our activity for the rest of the day until I walked Kiki and Clancey back to the bus station! After a great weekend it was time for them to head back to Salamanca. My flight didn’t leave until the next morning, so after sending them off I headed back towards my hostal. As it got dark, the crowds came out again. I passed by a gorgeous church and decided to stop inside to find mass just about to begin. The church itself was gorgeous, elaborately decorated in pinks, blues, and golds with a lively congregation and an amazing trio of singers. Even more surprising was how much I understood what was being said. Following the mass is simple, same mass I have been to for the last 20 years of my life, but knowing what the readings said, and what the homily was about was really rewarding, (a) because mass just makes you feel good, and (b) because my Spanish has come that far!!

Afterward, feeling pretty good about myself, I strolled the lively streets of Bilbao before calling it a night. Monday morning was a different story. The place was all hustle and bustle with people off to work and wherever else Spaniards go during the day! I made my way through the crowds and caught my bus to the airport to head back to Córdoba. Not, that this whole experience isnt one big vacation, because for the most part it feels like that, but this weekend was especially relaxing, and i feel like i got a real vacation.

It was a weird week in Córdoba. We watched “Juana La Loca” in class on Monday which means we didn’t have our elective classes. Then Tuesday pretty much turned into a Friday because Wednesday was Día de la Hispanidad, a national holiday in Spain. National holidays in Spain are Sundays in the middle of the week. An excuse for people to close shops, post irregular hours at restaurants (open at the most inconvenient times), and do a whole lotta nuthin´ while celebrating independence/saints/cultural pride. That meant that Thursday felt like another Monday but kinda like a Friday too, because the next day was an excursion (a.k.a. no class). With two Mondays, Sunday in the middle of the week and a Friday and a half, I was pretty “off schedule” per-say, considering neither I, nor the rest of Spain, has any concept of a regular schedule. Lucky for me I had something to distract me from all this madness…

…KIKI! My friend Kirstin (who I saw a couple weeks ago in Madrid) is studying in Salamanca and came down for the weekend! Just when I thought my head was going to explode from trying to figure out what day it was, Kiki arrived…Perfect timing in more than one way too! The rain had just stopped AND the city has officially changed seasons. We are getting the wonderful fall weather that is just slightly windy, crisp cold air (a refreshing break from the hot mugginess that welcomed us to Córdoba initially) but still sunny and clear. Its gorgeous, and my favourite season during the school year!

Anyhoo…Kiki got here on Thursday and we headed back to my house cause Carmen said she could stay with us (my host family is totally cooler than everyone else´s, some of my friends can´t even have their friends over in the day, let alone stay with them for a weekend!). We cenar-ed (spanglish for ate dinner) with my family that night before heading out to the Intercambio party hosted for my program and our intercambios (Spanish speaking friends that we get paired up with to practice Spanish) at a bar called Blue near Gran Capítan and the center of town. While Kiki and I enjoyed being out with Chris, Cody and Marissa, we got real tired of the rest of the crowd of obnoxious Americans being obnoxiously loud and doing ridiculous things…as if a group of 70 Americans doesn´t stand out enough in Córdoba as is.

The next day we got up and headed (after a yummy breakfast that included a delicacy here in Spain: fat-free AND cold milk…we are talking serious rarity here folks!) to the parade (bus stop) where we were gonna catch the bus to the Castillo de Almodóvar, up on the top of a hill about 15 minutes outside of Córdoba city. The bus ride would have been enjoyable if I was deaf, but, with fairly decent hearing, I got to listen to the girl behind me talk (to her equally annoying friends) about all the stupid stuff she did at Blue, the night before…as if I hadn’t been there to witness it, and hadn’t been forced to leave out of sheer embarrassment of being associated with them. (SIDENOTE: let me just rant a little bit about the fact that Americans, and especially American girls, have a bad reputation for being loud, imposing, ignorant, and scandalous as is. Then you go to Spain, and to one of the more quiet and reserved areas at that, and perpetuate that exact persona that anyone who is not those things has to deal with. Its embarrassing, not that Im a saint, but I do my best to be as “Un-American” as I can when I go out). Enough said, but sometimes I feel that the title for this program should be: Spanish-for-Dummies-and-other-annoying-people. All in all, its not that bad and its really only a few of ‘them’ that are problems.

Lucky for me, I had Kiki right there next to me, and while the Castillo (forgive the lack of description but if you Google ‘Spanish Castle’ you will get the standard run down of the place) provided a great backdrop for our first outing in Córdoba, getting off the bus back in town was a relief. From there, we followed Spanish procedure of eating, sitting, talking, walking to the next place and eating and talking some more before heading home to (yep, you guessed it, eat again) and then head out. We passed on the Botellón Friday night and opted instead to check out the theatres…and the new movies that just came out here. We saw “Juegos de Mujer” (I don’t know if it translates literally back home but it would mean ‘Games of Women’) with Charlize Theron and Penelope Cruz. I have almost stopped noticing the dubbing and now spend the energy trying not to miss anything important. Not my favourite movie, but watching movies in Spanish has become one of my favourite ways to learn!

Saturday, the most beautiful day Córdoba has seen in my stay (that perfect autumn weather) we put on our best tourist hat and explored the Judería and plazas before heading over to the Mezquita. If it wasn’t so expensive, im pretty sure I could go there everyday, its so strange and different and gorgeous all at the same time! After a day of walking around it only seemed right to relax in front of a bar TV, with a beer, and the free tapas that came with it, to catch a couple fútbol games. Word of advice for tapas: learn all the possible names for blood sausage before ordering. Afterward we did the typical Spanish thing (again). Grabbed something at one bar, relocated to the next, and the next adding people here, losing some there, playing darts, eating Kebab (the late-nite Mexican food of Spain) before heading back home.

The fun always has to end, so Sunday morning it was up-an-adam to walk Kiki back to the train station. Its so nice to have someone come visit that knows you and knows about “normal” life for you. The friends I have here are amazing people and wonderful friends. There is just something comforting, I think, in having a good friend from home bring some of that absent, and missed, familiarity into life here. I miss being able to say that ‘that dude remindes me of so-and-so’, and have them know who you are talking about without further explanation. So if I ever move halfway around the world again, you guys will have to all be sure to rearrange your lives, and come with me!

So, yet again, another weekend in Córdoba was a success. Today I woke up feeling a cold coming on, something I will be getting rid of pronto. Next weekend is a 4 day weekend and Basque Country is looking really appealing right now! And a week after that: MOROCCO!!!! I finally get to go to Africa…im so stoked! We will be flying farther south as not to encounter any of the long and arduous land/sea crossing and avoid the whole “TJ” experience that you get in border towns. Casablanca is where we fly into and from there down to Marrakech. Its going to be so wonderful, as long as I don’t drink any tap water or eat anything raw!