ITALIA

3 Diciembre 2007, Lunes

Since it´s Monday, I got up early and went to volunteer at good ol´ Sacrado Corazón de Jesus. Today, I was informed that the kids were working on posters of their favorite pop stars/actors, in English. Before class, the girl who asked me to be easy on her skipped up to the table and proudly told me she received full marks on the oral test to which I replied…¨Muy bien!¨The kids were all chatting away working, and I drifted from group to group helping and chatting with all of them. The first group was sooo cute, it was about 6 girls and one 1 boy sitting stubbornly. I walked over and immediately saw why the boy was so grumpy: the girls were decorating with hearts and flowers a poster dedicated to their hero, the heartthrob Zac Efron. I asked the girls if they thought he was ¨guapo¨and of course they all melted on the spot, sighing and giggling. The solitary boy rolled his eyes. I told them that they had to learn English so they could talk to Zac when he came to Spain, hehe…The teacher informed me that last year, the class learned the final dance from high school musical and performed it for the school which was apparently ¨preciosa.¨ She asked me to talk about my life next week for the kids, which in the US is quite different from their own.

The next group was working on a poster of Bart Simpson, while other worked on a Spanish actor, a Smackdown wrestler guy, and of course, Rihanna. It was funny to read their English descriptions, because I could tell where most of their mistakes came from, knowing grammar quite well in Spanish (at least I hope so by now). The following class, which I have found quite frustrating the past few weeks due to the fact that this one boy likes to ask me about ¨carne con tomate¨every few minutes. I don´t understand what is so funny, and I totally get the whole making fun of the substitute crap, having gone through that myself. Today, I taught them about how we call ¨pop¨different things in the US.

After an increasingly boring el mundo actual class, I met up with Cristina for a delightful hour of intercambio. Today, we taught each other colloquial phrases. For example, ¨mete la pata en el gazpacho¨ (stick your foot in the soup) means to be mistaken…hmmm…The hour flew by, as usual.

After class, Natalia and I went shopping for a bit, as prices are expected to go up for the Christmas season…I came home quite late and had a fabulous dinner of lentejas and tomatoes with cheese for dinner. God I love Spain.

Oh also, in Macarena´s class we got graduation sashes which are Spanish colors and have the flag on them! Tomorrow Italia!!!!

4 Diciembre 2007, Martes…ROMA

This morning, I went to class, had intercambio with Cristina, where I taught her the wonders of Facebook, and then ran home to grab my things before the plane. My señora made me lunch, and I scampered off after eating fried shrimp, potato salad (ensaladilla rusa), and tuna with peppers. I ran to catch the bus in front of Plaza Nervion, and totally spaced out. I don´t know if I have mentioned this before, but in Sevilla, to catch a bus you must flag it down, like a taxi. I knew Natalia was coming on the special Airport route bus, but like I said, was spacing out like crazy. All of a sudden, the airport bus whizzed by….Natasha called me frantically asking why I hadn´t made the bus, and I blamed the driver for not stopping (it was my own fault). Hehe, oh well, I caught the next bus, half an hour later, and made it to the airport just in time to miss standing in line for thirty minutes.

I took a picture of this amazing sign, which once again makes me question how hard it is, really, to get a translator to check grammar before printing something…the sign said ¨do you wish a grill meat?¨On the plane, Natasha surprised me with a Hanukkah gift of Cosmo in Russian! I was so surprised, I had been wanting to buy one, but always denied myself the guilty pleasure…The flight literally flew by! Nata and I are somewhat lack in planning, we usually have a general idea in what we want to see, but let ourselves go with the flow instead of planning out every single minute of our trips. We were joking around because in the Clickair (our airline) magazine, they had recommendations for Christmas markets in Roma and Venezia, which I tore out and we counted as part of our ¨planning.¨

We landed in Roma, and searched for the train to Termini, the largest station. After finding our hostel, Lilliput Hostel, which was quite close to Termini, we tried to buzz in. It was located in this pleasant little courtyard with a Christmas tree in the middle. We called the place and were told to wait just a few minutes. We waited and waited, and then came in a young tio with the saggiest pants I have ever seen, I don´t know how many laws of gravity these bad boys were defying by not falling down. Natalia and I gave each other a ¨look,¨as baggin´ saggin´pants boy said, ¨Buena sera, I am Lorenzo, welcome to Roma¨in about as Italian of an accent as you can get. Once again I learned to never judge a man by his pants…(hehe)

The hostel was the cutest thing ever. No wonder it was called Lilliput hostel because it was tiny! It was just one room, very kitschy decorated in pink and blue, with a kitchen and 3 bedroom off of it. He gave us the keys, and since I am pretty sure we were the only ones staying there, we basically had our own apartment in Rome!! For dinner, we went to a neighborhood Italian restaurant recommended by the pants, I mean man, himself, Lorenzo. We we soooo excited to be in Italy that we ordered Waaaayyyyyyyy too much. Appetizer: brushetta. For the first course I had this amazing seafood ravioli while Natalia had minestrone soup to ease her aching throat. I let the waiter talk me into ordering a Roman specialty for the main course…oxtail…it was actually quite good, but I don´t think I would do it again. Natalia had manicotti…yum! And of course, for dessert we had tiramisu before heading back to the hotel and sleeping…

5 Diciembre 2007, Miercoles, ROMA

I woke up this morning in my warm little bed, full of opportunity and excitement. I made some tea while Nata showered and we somewhat planned our day. We stepped outside and headed in the direction of St. Maria Maggiore church. As we were crossing the street, I heard a woman say, ¨Let´s follow these girls, they look like they know what they are doing,¨in an Australian accent, to which I laughed in my mind. We walked inside the church, which was absolutely gorgeous, and a relief to the eyes after seemingly hundreds of gothic Spanish cathedrals. The church was a mix of Byzantine mosaic, baroque style ceilings, and lots of rich artwork. I remembered reading that Bernini was buried here, so I searched for a monument. Along the way, I made friends with the older Australian couple who had so much confidence in us. We wished each other luck in sightseeing and headed onwards.

Being hungry, Natalia and I stopped in a little café for breakfast, and my first Italian cappuchinno (it was FANTASTIC). As we headed out of the café we passed our Australian friends, as they saluted us, saying ¨Bongiourno!¨ heartily. I laughed so hard…imagine saying running into and saying bongiourno to the only two people you have met in such a giant city…oh fate. It turns out we were walking the wrong way, and as we tried to ask for directions to the colloseum, I realized we would have to use a mix of Spanglish to communicate with the tricky Italians.

Shaking my head in apparent disbelief and loss of faith in Natalia´s map skills, I realized we were right next to the giant theatre itself. It was the same as I last left it almost eight years ago, a testament to Roman greatness and show-offiness. ¨Gladiators¨roamed the street outside, ready for pictures while all kinds of vendors sold who knows what kind of crap. We took a billion pictures, and decided not to go inside, as I had already been, and Natalia realized that once you have seen a Roman ampitheater, you´ve seen them all. (Gosh, I feel so spoiled writing that…I only mean in styles).

We walked down to the Roman Forum, basking in the glow of ancient greatness. It was really quite beautiful, in a way that I can´t begin to describe and you, patient reader, just have to up and visit Rome yourself. I tried to solicit a student entrance into the Roman Forum by pretending to not know English (you can´t get a student discount if you´re not from the EU, damn Italians). It didn´t work, so Natalia and I headed onwards to see the monument dedicated to the unknown soldier, one of the most famous Roman buildings.

Of course, and do I even need to say this by now? It was under construction, but we still took pictures as it was quite beautiful. Next stop: Trevi Fountain, by way of a pharmacy because Natalia´s cough had gotten worse. We stopped at a market, and I bought my first souvenir, a pretty gold bracelet with blue murano glass. We headed to Trevi and were of course in awe of the complicated beauty of the transposition between water and art. Being incredibly touristy, we tossed pennies behind our backs, securing a return to Rome (I unknowlingly had been saving an American penny for three months to ultimately fulfill this purpose).

Pulling out the small scrap of paper I had torn out of the airline magazine, we headed for the Christmas market in Rome, by way of the Pantheon. I love the pantheon! I remember being in awe of it the first time when I was twelve, and intrigued to learn more about its mysterious history. Well, I´m a bum and haven´t read anything, but I will! I should mention, the weather was chilly but not unbearable, and the minimum number of other tourists made things much more enjoyable to sightsee. So after being amazed at the Pantheon and the hole in the roof and the perfect perportions, we headed to the Christmas market. After about three stalls, we decided to buy some chocolate from this grandpa who looked amazingly like Giupetto, grey moustache and all. Natalia picked out some of her beloved hazelnuts for two euros, and told me to pick whatever I wanted to share as well. Well, that is a dangerous thing to say to me when chocolate is involved, for I ended up picking out about 12 euro worth of chocolate. (it was an accident!) (ps with the exchange rate sucking as much as it has lately, that translates to more than 18 American dollars).

The market was full of witches on brooms, Italy´s version of Santa Claus. Also, lots of sweets, glass, and leather. After exhausting the market, we decided to head to the Jewish Ghetto (yes, I know, but that´s what it used to be, and I wasn´t even aware of its existence until Natasha told me she had read in a guide book that it was a good place to eat cheaply). We found the amazing and beautiful synagogue, in all of its glory, situated near the Tiber river. I almost flipped! It was so gorgeous, and there was a giant menorah standing outside. The guards searched us before we went into the Jewish museum, since there was a PLO bombing in the synagogue in 1982. We joined an English speaking tour after looking through the museum. The guide told us that the first Jewish ghetto was founded in 1516 in Venice (more info to come) and Rome´s came soon after. There were thousands of people forced into a tiny area where the doors were locked at night, and any time leaving the ghetto meant a Jewish person had to wear a yellow hat identifying them as a Jew. Since the ghetto is so close to the Tiber, there was lots of flooding each year. Also, Jews were only allowed to practice three professions, doctoring, lending money, and selling second hand stuff. (rags). That is why there are beautiful Torah covers in all colors, representing the bits and pieces of cloth the Jewish women saved, and later sewed.

As we walked up and into the synagogue, I gasped in shock and tears came to my eyes (seriously). It was absolutely beautiful! The Jewish people built it as a testament to their freedom following the Italian republic (1870s, but the building wasn’t built until the early 1900s). Since space had always been a luxury, the synagogue is large and airy, a display to the world that the old ways were over. The most beautiful part was this amazing ceiling pyramid dome thing, which was colored in all of the colors of the rainbow. Golden hanukkiahs stood at the front of the bimah, and it was just indescribably beautiful. The guide told us that many Italian Jews are neither Sephardic nor Ashkenazi, but have their own traditions, unsurprisingly called ¨the Italian tradition.¨Also, to mention, there were about 11,000 or so Jews in Italy when Mussolini and Hitler joined forces in persecution. About 2,000 were deported while the rest were saved by Christian citizens. Today, there are 13,500 Jews in Rome. (yay!)

After the tour, I bought a beautiful Star of David to add to my collection, and a mezuzah made of Murano glass. As we left, I was so happy and proud, I could have burst, but I was also quite hungry. Natalia and I began our obligatory restaurant search, but settled on a cute little place after passing by La Taverna del Ghetto. We ordered another Roman specialty of fried artichokes (yummm) and pasta. I was in my happy place.

There was so much Jewish stuff around! I took a picture with another menorah, and felt obliged to buy some Jewish stuff in the shops. They had these little one time use menorahs and candles, which I bought because of course I wanted to celebrate Hanukkah. As we left the ghetto, which was actually really gross and dilapidated, I could not imagine the more than 5,000 people who lived here at one time, all together crammed in there. Damn.

The next stop: the Spanish steps. At this point, it was almost dark, and yet again, buildings behind the steps were under construction, so we could not see too much. However, we walked the streets lined with shops and Christmas decorations. It was really cute. We decided to go back and see the Trevi fountain by night. There was this one crazy intersection where the people have to be really impudent (nagliy) or the cars will never stop, so we followed a group of Romans into oncoming traffic. As I said a silent prayer, Natalia turned to me and said, ¨You know what they say….when in Rome…¨to which we both just started laughing like crazy….

At the Trevi, we were told the ¨best gelato in Rome¨was nearby in a place called San Crispino´s. After much getting lost and looking, we found it, and were very much not impressed. The gelato, instead of flourishing out of metal bins, in curls and soft, lush goodness, was kept hidden in metal pots. We couldn´t even do the good gelato check, seeing what color the banana is (really yellow means it´s fake and colored, grey means it´s the real thing). We decided to just try it (even though it was overpriced as well). As we left the shop, I was clearly not impressed with my less than satisfactory straciatella. It was not fair to Natalia that her first Italian gelato experience was less than bellisimo…so after much debating, we decided it was worse to waste calories than money, and tossed that shit into the nearest trash can. After about a block, we saw people carrying fabulous gelato creations and asked them where they purchased the stuff. We got the good stuff and walked back to the Trevi fountain. We were sitting in Rome, eating gelato by the Trevi fountain (I repeat as an emphasis to how amazing it all was). After my butt got quite cold, we walked around for a bit before hitting the shops, which once again, I was not impressed. After a while we went ¨home,¨ (I swear it felt like home) to Lilliput. I got out my new little menorah, and lit my Hanukkah candles, feeling very Jewish, being displaced so many times (here, by choice thank goodness) but yet able to feel at home within the familiar melody of a blessing and the welcoming lights of remembrance.

7 Diciembre 2007, Jueves

This morning we got up earlier, and decided to go beat the lines at the Vatican. Everyone who had gone to the Vatican in our Sevilla program told us about how they stood in line for 3 or more hours just to get inside, so we were well prepared to handle the wait. We went to Termini and struggled through buying tickets in yet another language and finding our proper stop. We got off at the right stop, and followed the touristy looking people into the Vatican.

It was empty. There were so few people walking around that I wondered whether it was even open, or maybe it some obscure but very important saint´s day. We saw the barriers supposed to hold the tourists in, but there were no tourists, so confused but happy, we made our way into what we thought was the entrance into St. Peter´s. It wasn´t the entrance, but really the catacombs of some famous popes who we didn´t really care too much about seeing, but we did see the grave of Pope John Paul II, which was interesting. A loud voice boomed over the intercom (I know, intercoms in catacombs…weird, right?) ¨PLEASE OBSERVE SILENCE AND RESPECT WHEN WALKING THROUGH: THIS IS A HOLY PLACE¨ proclaimed a woman´s voice, while I couldn´t help but giggle at the contradiction of her announcement (my giggles echoed throughout, and I got some mean looks from fervent Catholics). Confused even more, Natalia and I walked out of the sacred pope burial area while I cursed under my breath…¨Fuck, oh wait no, shit! Oh wait still no, damn it! NO! What can I even say?¨

So we walked out and into old looking stuff (great description I know). I was so surprised by the apparent lack of security (not to mention people) that I told Natalia that maybe we should ask before just walking blatantly into St. Peter´s (the largest church on earth!). As we walked up the steps, I tripped and almost fell, while Natalia laughed and I felt like something was telling me I wasn´t so welcome here…I began to approach one of the Swiss guards when I turned and saw Natalia entering through a smaller door, not wanting to abandon my friend, I ran inside and was greeted by the immense presence of Catholicism embodied in the rich and grandiose interior of it´s most important place. I was excited to see Da Vinci´s ¨Pieta¨again, as I remember the last time I saw it, I couldn´t stop staring at its profound beauty (so ironic to think that I have been to the Vatican twice already in my life…). This time, you could take pictures so I walked around snapping photos of statues of zealous deceased popes and the like.

After a while, we headed towards the Vatican museum and Sistine Chapel. We had to ask for directions a few times because of the lack of people and directions, but finally we found our line, snaking around the corner of the wall fencing in the world´s smallest country. The line took approximately ten minutes, and was relatively unpleasant, as beggars and restaurant promoters took advantage of excited tourists to make their case. I hate to put it that way, because obvious I gave money to some of the poor souls who had nothing in the world to rely on but the good nature of tourists, but after a while here in Europe, (and I suppose elsewhere in the world this is profoundly more obvious) you realize you can´t help everybody. As idealistic as I like to think I am, it really is true.

Anywho, we entered the museum and it was beautiful, and rich and all that crap. But honestly, anytime (and I remember thinking this the last time I went to the Vatican when I was only 12) when I enter a church and the richness of it all dazzles me, I think of the poor people in the world whose lives would change forever if only a tiny, miniscule piece of the money and effort used to build these massive testaments to the church´s prosperity were used to benefit its most fervent believers. It really disgusts me, but then again, I can see how the world is a better place having such beautiful art….but I don’t think it´s worth the sacrifice….

So we walked through rather speedily, dodging the endless tourist groups, headed with one agenda…Sistine Chapel. Of course, it was spectacular. I prefer the Sistine Chapel to any gothic cathedral. One could spend days counting the details of Michelangelo´s greatest masterpiece, painted all over the walls and ceilings of the chapel, a work that took the artist more than seven years to complete.

After going through some of the other expositions, we decided we were Vaticaned out and decided to walk around the neighborhood in (very) nearby Rome. I was so hungry that when I passed by a place with the words ¨rustic pizza´´ I ducked in to have a bite…which ended up being a total tourist trap. I was expecting to pay something like 7 or 8 euros for the little food Nata and I ordered, but it was more like 20. After our breakfast, we hit the shops, me still (still!) searching for the perfect boots. Natalia still insists they are out there somewhere, waiting for me.

After a while, we returned to Termini and caught our train to Ciampino. Have I raged on about Ryanair yet? If yes, sorry, if not here goes… so Ryanair is the cheapest airline in Europe. When one books a flight they reel you in by telling you a ticket costs something like 0.10 dollars, and then once you´re through adding on all of their additional fees, the ticket can end up being 50 or 60 euros, still a steal. However, Ryanair flights are in airports far away from the city of choice, and generally are massively disorganized. So basically it´s a tradeoff between cheapness and sanity. Clear choice, no?

So the airport was more than an hour away from the city, and everything was closed for siesta in the Ciampino, meaning we went to a small café for lunch and then headed to the airport, sharing a cab with an extremely friendly Australian couple. At the airport we stood in line to check in for more than an hour (thanks Ryanair!) and met these two stereotypical American girls also flying to Venice. Once you study abroad, you begin to see where the stereotypes come from, and wonder if really they are as false as we assume they are. I don´t know how I even can describe this girl, here´s an example of something that drove me crazy…she has a Spanish roommate who says ¨no te preocupes¨(don’t worry) a lot, so this girl adopted ¨no tay pray¨as an abbreve….erggggghhhh

The flight to Venice was fine (ok I should mention that Nata´s ticket only cost 6 euro or 8 dollars which is crazy cheap for a flight). I slept most of the way, and was quite excited to get into ¨Venice.¨Once again, thanks Ryanair for landing us in Treviso, more than an hour and a half away from Venice. We stood in line at the tourist information booth while a very patient lady tried to explain to this confused Asian tourist why Padua was not anywhere near Venice….I was so anxious I wanted to hit this girl because we had to wait so long, and hear her directions so many times repeated…(patience is a virtue, I am aware)

So to get to Venice we took a bus for 30 minutes, then a train for more than an hour. But we arrived. And from the first few seconds, it was amazing. I love Venice. Who doesn´t? The directions for our hotel went something like ¨Cross the first big bridge you see. Walk a little bit then turn left after the second little bridge,¨but amazingly we found it without problems. And we went for an amazing Italian dinner during which I had my favorite pizza margherita…yum! Afterwards, we walked around the Lista de Espana, ironically the biggest street in our neighborhood, which was really nice. We had gelato for 1 euro which is the best gelato I´ve ever had, I think. Mmmmm…….

8 Noviembre 2007, Viernes VENEZIA

We woke up this morning and asked for breakfast recommendations from our hostel, and ended up going to this tiny little bakery between two canals, which was absolutely fabulous and amazingly cheap. All of the guide books I said mentioned that in Venice since there are so many tourists the prices are sky high, but since our hotel was in a non-as-touristy section, we were next to shops with less expensive prices for the same Murano glass and masks (the dominant buys in Venice).

After breakfast, we headed in the direction of the Jewish ghetto. After passing some signs in Hebrew, and crossing some bridges into a more dilapidated looking part of the city, we found it along with a large menorah in the central square. There was also a large wall with barbed wire that was a monument to the fallen Venetian Jews during the Holocaust. We went inside the musem and took the English speaking tour. The museum was filled with all things Jewish, but the tour was definitely the highlight. Venice actually had the first ghetto in the world, built in 1516 and the word ¨ghetto¨ itself (pronounced jetto in Italianio) means foundry in Italian, which is what was located on the land allotted for the Jewish ghetto. When the Ashkenazi´s arrived with their German accents, the soft ¨j¨sound turned into the hard ¨g¨of ghetto. Anywho, the ghetto is surrounded on three sides by canals which used to have walls by them, and Jews were locked inside the ghetto at night. If they wanted to go out during they day, they had to wear a yellow hat showing to all that they were Jewish. They were also only allowed to have three occupations: doctors, money lenders, and sellers of ¨second hand stuff.¨ Our guide was a stern looking Venetian woman with frizzy blondish hair (and a beautiful Star of David). We visited three of Venice´s five synagogues (I know, right) the first being a small Ashkenazi synagogue on the second floor of the museum, the second being an elaborately decorated French little synagogue, and the third a grandiose Spanish Sephardic synagogue which took my breath away. It was nice because I noticed that in our group there were not only some American tourists (who turned out to be from Wilmette!) but a large group of Germans who were definitely not Jewish as they asked what the menorah was standing outside.

After the tours I felt invigorated and ready to buy some Jewish stuff….which there was a lot of…in the first store I went to, a harsh looking man told me he made most of the beautiful menorahs, mezuzahs and other Judaica by hand, and I picked out some mezuzahs and two Stars of David to add to my collection. When it got time to pay, it was so funny because I was like, ¨How much?¨ and we wrinkled his brow and said, ¨How are you paying?¨to which I gave him a knowing smile since I knew where this was leading. He gave me a nice discount for paying cash and I took a picture with him. When I asked him if they had a lot of visitors he said, ¨Baruch hashem yes!¨

After the Jewish ghetto, we took a boat taxi winding down the Grand Canal (it was quite cold!) and saw the beautiful, grandeous but dilapidating and water damaged palaces along the canal. (time out, we actually had lunch first, and of course I had another amazing pizza margherita) When using a bit of imagination, one can see that back in the day, Venice must have been a sight, of course it still is, but more as kind of a symbol of what once was one of the most powerful and successful trading empires in the world. After getting of at San Marco, we went to see the church and piazza. Of course I told Natasha the story of how when I was little, (this is actually my third time in Venice) I peed by one of those most important monuments, the one with the symbol of Venice on it, the winged lion (I was two at the time). We went in to San Marco and once again saw an amazingly beautiful, but dark since there were few windows and Byzantine mosaics covered most of the walls and ceiling, church. San Marco is funny because mostly everything there was stolen by the Venetians, in fact, the body of Saint Mark is there, and was carried in a barrel of pig fat from Egypt in order to establish Venice as an ¨important city¨in the eyes of Christendom.

After exiting the church, we were greeted by the crazy and nagliy as hell pigeons of St. Mark´s square. These are not your regular birds, for they are smart and know exactly why they are there: to amuse tourists. They have gotten quite aggressive over the years and have no fear, flying in swarms literally attacking the poor children offering bread crumbs bought my complicit nearby sellers, while parents frantically take as many pictures of their children as possible. It´s quite a sight.

We then allowed ourselves to get completely lost, basking in the fun of wandering the narrow alleys and finding tiny canals. We were lucky that apart from the really big touristy spots like Piazza San Marco and the Rialto bridge, there were so few tourists. We ducked in and out of shops, seeing one man blowing glass and another painting masks. One shopowner told us about the Venetian heritage for masks, stemming from crazy Carnival celebrations, sometimes lasting six months! After a while we were tired, so we sat down to have a spritz (typical Venetian drink) and coffee. We ordered this amazing coffee with nutella dripping down the sides and whipped cream…yumm….In this little café the older waitress did not speak a word of English, however, for some reason they had an American rap music video channel on the TV, while cute Italian grandpas played cards in the back (unknowlingly) listening to Kanye. Hmmm….

Coming back to the hostel was a maze, and we were quite tired. I scattered all of my many Jewish purchases on the bed to glance at how it´s sometimes quite expensive to be Jewish. After resting for a bit, we headed out to walk the Lista de España, stopping at our favorite 1 euro gelato place. It was gorgeous and unbelievable, every few minutes I had to pinch myself and remind myself that I was in Venice. The beautiful Christmas decorations were hung and lit the streets with a happy glow as shoppers bustled down the sinking city, unaware of its staggering beauty. I, on the other hand, stopped and took about 1000 pictures. No joke.

For dinner, we stopped at a small restaurant which looked quite busy. I must stop and explain that the reason we could take so many days off of school was because it was a puente, or bridge meaning that in España, there was a holiday on Thursday (St. someone or other´s day) and instead of going back to work, Spaniards take a few days off. It was cool, because we saw a bunch of Spanish travelers, one couple with their noisy (but cute) baby were next to us in the restaurant. We had the best pasta ever, yum. I don´t know how they do it, but Italian food is just that much better in Italy. At the end of our meal, I was putting down my water glass when it somehow broke! I covered it with my napkin and told Natalia that um, maybe we should go? At that moment, the waiter came back with the receipt telling Natalia she had to sign, and also told her to put her address and number (he was joking but we were so on edge that we were like ¨he knows!¨) Entonces, I made a run for it, putting on my coat as fast as possible, and assumed that Natalia was right behind me….when I left the restaurant, I realized she, um, wasn’t. And only came out a few minutes later muttering ¨puta¨ (bitch) under her breath because apparently the waiter had seen and lauged it off….oops….

9 Noviembre 2007, Sabado VENEZIA-MILAN

Today we went to our favorite little bakery for breakfast again and I had the best cappuchino of my life, followed by this amazing croissant with Nutella. Mmm….we decided to spend most of the day enjoying Venice and take a later train to Milan. We, according to the Christmas market plan, began to search for the Venetian Christmas market, which turned out to be quite an adventure because it was in quite an obscure place. We passed by the most beautiful scenes of gondoliers floating by with tourists (usually giant hordes of Asians) and little alleys leading to empty piazzas. After passing through San Marco and having another go at the crazy pigeons, we finally found the little market and were somewhat disappointed. Maybe it´s that we´ve been to a million of these things by now and it takes a lot to impress. It was still cute, with the little wooden huts of vendors selling sweets, cheeses, and other goods. Red carpets lined with decorated Christmas trees filled the piazza, as lights strung from hut to hut illuminated the eager shoppers. We left that market and were wandering a bit until we ran into a real find, an antique market filled with locals. I could have spent hours looking at the old stuff lining the tables, everything from jewelry to silverware to shoes…

As we passed the Rialto, a Spanish couple heard us and asked if we wanted a picture. They took our picture, and we took theirs, speaking Spanish the whole time, and we were just happy to have been approached by Spanish speakers. Yay!

We weaved our way back to Lista de España, stopping by shops and losing our way many times, but happily. One funny thing that happened is that we could not, for the life of us find that jewelry store from the first night again, and we took many walks back and forth, recounting our first steps from the first night (¨This is where I stopped and commented that the banana gelato was too yellow for it to be good…¨) Turns out the shop closed! Natalia was quite sad, but we had to go catch our train to Milan, so we bought some wraps for lunch and hopped on the train.

To Milan the ride was something like four hours, but it didn´t seem that long, as I slept and alternated between reading Spanish and Russian Cosmo. Upon exiting the train in Milan, the first thing that came to sight was a HUGE (like ginormous) poster of Giselle Búndchen advertising for Dolce and Gabbana. I really wanted to go shopping in Milan, but we arrived right at 7:30, which in Italy is the time that shops close. (weird).

After wandering a bit, we took a cab to America Hotel, and were greeted by this very friendly little Italian gay guy. After much talking, we realized that once again, Ryanair screwed us over, and we would have to take a cab at 3:20 AM to the train station to catch a bus at 4:00 AM to the airport which was more than an hour away to catch our flight at 6:00 AM. Damn. We ate dinner at a small Italian restaurant nearby that he recommended, and had fun recounting all of the memories from all of the trips we have taken, as Italy was our last trip together. We toasted for memories made, and memories to come as an Italian chef tossed pizza dough in the background and I savored every delicious bite of my pasta.

We headed back to the hotel, and after lighting Hanukkah candles, called it a night…or so we thought. It was around 10 PM, and Natalia´s cough (pobresita) kicked in. Then we realized what the sign for ¨Rolling Stone¨on the first floor of our building was….one of the most popular discotecas in Milan. So then it started BUM BUM BUM BUM…techno house music….around 2 AM, I gave up and told Natalia we might as well catch an earlier cab to the station. We went downstairs and saw stumbling drunk jovenes outside of the club. I NEEDED a coffee so we went to a café next door and voila…they had Nutella crepes. Oy vey…that cappuccino and crepe may just have changed my life…

We got to the puta bus station, waited for the first bus, and boarded. Although we had decided earlier on that the best way to preserve our friendship was not to talk so early, we were full of laughter and chatty (I hope the people in front of us weren´t annoyed). The whole bus ride we talked about things that annoyed us in Spain, starting from no toilet paper anywhere, and ending with dictators like Franco.

When we got to the puta airport, we had to stand in line for over an hour (puta Ryanair). The highlights were a fat German baby, the girl in crazy stiletto boots, and when my phone mysteriously called Natalia´s although it was off and in my purse. So then we flew home, I slept most of the way, and felt once again at home once we got to beautiful Sevilla.

9 Diciembre 2007, Domingo

After coming back home and doing a bit of work, I passed out. Juan made lunch today as Señora left the house, and I didn´t have the heart to tell him the frozen dish he was heating up had bits of jamón in it. Oh well…afterwards, I decided to walk around (dar un paseo) which is what the whole world does on Sundays, dressing up the babies in their finest. Sevilla was playing at the stadium, so it was mass chaos in Nervión…I got off at Nervión plaza and spent the afternoon casually shopping, stopping to stare at the ice skating rink (I know!) in the center, and literally watching the ice melt.

10 Diciembre 2007, Lunes

Today was my last day at Sagrado, thank God. In my first class, I talked to the kids about my life, and being American. They did not understand me at all, and the teacher had to translate. I love that lady, Victoria, she was always really nice to me. Anywho, the best parts were when I told them that we were all mixed together in America, how some of my friends were from other countries and had other religions. One little boy pondered how someone could be Christian, but not Catholic, as the teacher (who didn´t know too much either it appeared) tried to explain what being Protestant meant, to which the boy just looked more confused. They were so surprised to learn that there were no motos in America, and I (I don’t know why) explained the concept of drive-up windows. In the end, the teacher thanked me on behalf of the class ¨Has sido muy amable, muy encantadora,¨blah blah, which was nice as the class applauded and we did the Spanish kiss (once on the right cheek, once on the left). She made me promise to come back to the school when I come back to visit. In the second class (which is the one I don’t like because the kids are cheeky) one boy asked me what ¨fuck off and die¨means...oyyyy

After leaving the school, I met up with Christina for a hearty session of intercambio. Then we had Macarena´s last class, and had coffee as a class afterwards. We reflected on our time here in Spain, and Macarena told us that we were changed forever as a result of living in a completely different culture, just as she had changed after studying abroad in Iowa over forty years ago. She told us that the easy part was coming here, the hard part would be to go back to our old lives, since we will think that time has stood still, but everyone has gone on with their lives back home as well. That struck a resounding chord with me, since I suppose in my mind, the relationships that I had with my friends have not changed, but it has been over six months since I have seen most of them. Although it certainly doesn´t feel like it at all…it was interesting to hear my American classmates´(and my American here, I mean people who grown up solely with American culture) opinions and revelations…about how life is so hectic in the States, and really, it doesn´t have to be. Reality is so subjective, but most of the time you don´t realize it until you come to another country and see that really, not everyone has the same mentality that you have.

11 Diciembre 2007, Martes

This morning I had my cine final, which was fabulous and I can´t wait to read what Luis says about my essay, since I wrote about the symbolism in Lucia y el sexo, one of my new favorite movies. During intercambio time, we all walked around Santa Cruz and I found this small antique store which had a lot of Jewish stuff, so I showed Cristina and Gloria what menorahs, the torah, a mezuzah, and ner tamid were, which hopefully was interesting for them.

We had our final presentation in Español para negocios, which was very easy. Afterwards we went to have tea at Aire de Sevilla, the Arab baths, with the teacher, Maria del Mar who I love. She told us the story of how she met her husband, which was quite interesting, and then in turn, asked each of us about our love lives…read…

Maria: ¨Y Estela, ¿tienes un novio?

Estela: ¨No, no lo tengo.¨

Maria: ¨¿Y PORQUE?

Estela: (loss of words)

Which wasn´t awkward at all you know. After tea I was fairly famished so Natalia, Petra and I stopped into Dos Columnas, a small tapas bar that is supposed to be one of the best in Sevilla, located seconds from the Giralda, for a small tapa. Yummmmmm……I should mention that I have been studying the history of the world….

12 Diciembre 2007, Miercoles

This morning Cristina invited me to come to her English Literature class where apparently her teacher is ¨loco.¨He was. They were learning about Hamlet today, and the teacher was this crazy little Spanish man who studied in Scotland so speaks in rapid English to a class of first year English students…writes speedily on the board, and erases even more speedily. I absolutely loved it, except I was the only one laughing when he made jokes, since I don’t think anyone else understood him…

I studied basically the rest of the day, coming home for lunch, and talking to my señora about xenophobia, since there is talk of a mosque being built in Sevilla. Señora told me something shocking today, apparently Velazquez, Sevilla´s most famous artist and one of Spain´s most famous, was Jewish! And yes, I wikipedia´d him afterwards and it seems to be so…

Tomorrow is my El Mundo Actual final, and then I´m done! We´ve all been reading Wikipedia articles like crazy for this class, because it´s basically the history of the whole world after World War II, so I just wikipedia random things and read about them, which I´ve found is quite a delight, and I hope to continue the trend upon my return.

13 Diciembre 2007, Jueves

This morning, we had our last cine class. Although when the professor asked everyone if they would come they all nodded enthusiastically, this morning when I walked into class, Natalia was the only one there, and I just started to laugh. Entonces, we watched a film called Los amantes del circulo polar, another Medem film, which I loved although the ending was really tragic. After class, we all Wikipedia´d things like crazy, which was very funny to me in my mind. I knew the teacher was going to ask about the Cold War for some reason, so I read a lot about that…right before the test, we noticed a huge manifestación going on outside with guns going off, it was a march of firefighters demanding something or other. I love walking through the manifestacións, it energizes me and reminds me that although my generation in America is politically apathetic and basically doesn´t give a shit about anything, not everyone is like that…

The mundo test was a breeze…it was funny actually, because we had to choose to write a six page essay from two topics (unknown before) and the two questions were either to talk about the history of the Israel-Palestine conflict, or the Cold War. Cha’ching! I wrote everything I knew for two hours, and left the exam feeling a lot lighter and carefree.

I was done! Free to enjoy Sevilla for the last few days and get everything I could out of it. I went to go have a picnic in the park with some of our Spanish friends, which was so much fun. Something on my mind since watching medem is ¨azar¨and ¨casualidades¨…which I´m not sure exactly how I feel about. Remember Tatiana? The Russian girl I met at the beginning of my trip? Well she had told me that although we probably wouldn´t benefit from being intercambios, she would give my number to a Spanish classmate who would call me, incidentally he also spoke a bit of Russian and was interested in Russian culture. WELL…today in the Park, I met him! It was crazy because we had finished lunch and were just lounging around and enjoying the beauty that is the park, when he just burst into Russian. Nata and I were astounded…it turns out, some of the younger victims of Chernobyl get to come to Spain and stay with Spanish families during the summer, because it betters their health. Alfonso´s family had been taking in a girl or two each summer, who had progressively been teaching him Russian…as we walked down to Viapol to watch a basketball game (Filología vs. Geografía y Historia) we chatted in Spussian…Russish??

La Semana Pasada

Ronda on the left

26 Noviembre 2007, Lunes

Today I continued onwards with the little brats in Sagrado Corazón, I liked them in the beginning, I really did. But now, I´m getting a little sick of their little ¨carne con tomate¨

Jokes, but the neat part was telling them our Thanksgiving traditions which they cannot really understand.

Today, I went to Alicia Marquez dance studio, ready to finally take a real flamenco class. When I got there, they told me that I couldn´t dance without shoes (no one had told me this would be a problem when I checked the place out before, and honestly, she looked at me like I had fallen from the moon or something when I asked if there was a place where I could rent shoes) So, I just sat in on the dance class…..which was amazing, and I will try to give it justice…

So the teacher was this tall, self confident, curly-haired Sevillana flamenco dancer, who had this amazing way of dancing where you could feel the energy running through her body even when she wasn´t moving all that much. She not only danced and taught, but also sang, since there were also two guitarists playing flamenco for the dancers. The dancers, interestingly enough, were comprised of about 4 Asian women, one obvious American, and a few Sevillanas. They had been learning a dance combination since the beginning of the month, and were now quite far along. But I, along with everyone else in the room, could not take my eyes off of the amazing teacher. She was funny and nice, elegant and strong, even in her windpants and tshirt, when you watched her dance it was as if she was in full flamenco garb, complete with castanets. I sat, mesmorized, for about an hour and then told myself I would return tomorrow and give it a try. Her style of teaching was amazing, she smiled as if she knew that nobody was ever going to be close to her level of dancing, but she tried to impart on us the passion she felt, the passion inherent to flamenco. One minute she was totally into the dance, the next she began repeating the steps one by one, over and over, for the confused Asians.

Afterwards, I met Natalia for a café con leche and palmero. We walked around the center of the city, in full acknowledgement that we would be leaving oh so soon. I caved and went to buy flamenco shoes, fearing if I did not at least take a couple of classes, I would regret it for the rest of my life. It´s like those mastercard commercials…

Flamenco shoes….. 24.99

Flamenco classes….25

Learning an ancient dance form from the most amazing dancer you´ve seen in your life…priceless

As I was getting off the bus to go home, I thought I saw a man juggling fire, and then the bus passed, and it was…a man juggling fire. Oh Sevilla…

27 Noviembre 2007, Martes

When I came home from lunch today, I realized Inma, Sergio who came to visit for a few days and is Inma´s hubby, and cute little Claudia were leaving. Everyone in the house was visibly sad, and the niña was being rocked to sleep by her mom. As she slept, Inma and I talked a little bit about my time here in Spain. Out of everyone in my family, Inma has been the nicest to me. From the first day, she was sensitive to the fact that I was not at home, but at the same time, tried her best to make me feel cared for. Even when I did not ask, she gave me suggestions and ideas. I told her that when she comes to Chicago, she will have an excellent guide. Even Sergio was extremely kind and interested in hearing what I had to say. They seem to respect me for traveling so far, and are in awe of ever leaving Spain. In the few short visits I had with them, I honestly feel really close to them, and hope that we will someday meet again. As they left, the house became extremely quiet and I could tell señora was visibly upset. I tried to change the topic and cheer her up.

I ran to the dance studio (this is the 3^rd time I underestimated how far it was, and how the twisty turny streets always seem to look the same). Weelllll, let me tell you, flamenco looks a hell of a lot easier than it actually is. The rhythms are crazy complicated and even the teacher, once again self-confident and elegant, had a hard time counting out what she felt as she danced. I tried to look confident and just take it all in, the teacher dancing and singing, and the guitarist, improvising and mesmerized by the dance. It was really fun and amazing, and I could almost (almost) picture myself not wearing shorts and a tank top, but a beautiful red and black dress, complete with a mantilla (scarf) and castanets, dancing away to the rhythm of flamenco.

After the class, I decided to be a tourist and record everything that I felt, for after actually dancing flamenco I began to understand more deeply what it really means, and not what is seen at the surface. As I walked out of the dance studio and into the tiny streets of Sevilla, past Plaza de San Lorenzo, little children running past me and grandmas taking a paseo (walk) I felt like I had been suspended in time, living a life that had been prescribed centuries ago, a mix of every culture you can imagine. The passion that is in the very few beginning chords of Flamenco are like the first layer of history and with each chord progression, a new layer of culture and civilization is added, providing a beautiful entrance for the singer. When the singer begins to proclaim the first phrases of longing and desire in the song, this represents the people of Sevilla, who make it truly the wonderful place it is. With the little wrinkled grandmas, to the beautiful babies in old fashioned strollers, to the young and fabulously dressed youth, the people of Sevilla are its heart. Then the dancer comes in, stomping away a beautifully choreographed rhythm, representing the interaction between history and people, a tumultuous relationship, with many spins, turns, and unexpected movements. Everything together is a seemless feast for the senses, which is exactly what Sevilla represents.

To see Sevilla, one must see the Giralda, which is able to be seen in almost any part of the city. The gigantic tower represents the impact Catholocism has had on Spanish history, dominating everything and standing as a testament to its prodigious story. To taste Sevilla, one must go to a real Señora´s house and eat flan which has been made the same way for hundreds of years, tens of generations. To smell Sevilla, one must walk through the gardens of the Alcazar or Parque Maria Luisa to smell the fresh, crisp bursts of aroma that come from the beautiful naranjos, or orange trees. Or, one must feel the amazing scent of roasted chestnuts, with steam billowing from the ovens of local vendors who sell the tasty treat to passersby.To hear Sevilla, one must listen to the wandering guitarists, playing a song then asking for money, relying on the love of music that people have in order to survive. These troubadours walk around from restaurant to restaurant, showing their skills to tourists and locals alike. Sometimes, you can hear Sevilla by turning a corner into a little alley and finding a guitar shop that has stood there for hundreds of years, and hear the strains of someone practicing a beautiful piece. To touch Sevilla, one must meet a local, for there they will receive the famous Spanish kiss, first right cheek, then left, a way of saying hola that exemplifies the openness of its people. Or to really feel Sevilla, one must try to dance flamenco, really learn the technique in order to appreciate the difficulty of the intricate movements, and then feel the intense pain in the feet that comes with true effort.

I took pictures left and right, of the teenagers playing guitar in the streets, of the older Señoras gossiping after many cups of coffee, and of street vendors selling the smoky roasted chestnuts. I was heavy with the fatigue of my senses feeling completely overwhelmed, but in love with everything they encountered. I found my way to the Ayuntamiento, or government building, a beautifully decorated edifice that separates two large plazas, the Plaza Nueva and Plaza de San Francisco. Oddly enough, I noticed an interesting coincidence. (?) There were two big fairs going on, one of belén, or nativity sets, and the other of books, antique and new. The religious fair was taking place in the Plaza de San Francisco, (saint francis´s square) while the book fair took place in Plaza Nueva (new plaza), with the government separating the two, church and knowledge, representing a conflict that has existed as long as Spain has, and probably before. I laughed to myself thinking ¨Oh Sevilla,¨ I wonder if anyone else noticed.

I headed to belén first and saw thousands of little Jesus´s in their little mangers. While nativity sets were the most abundant religious relic, there were little statues of saints, and even secular pieces like little pans of paella. The speakers were blasting Sevillanas, a special kind of flamenco, as passerby went from booth to booth, enjoying the religious splendour of it all, a tradition that has lasted hundreds of years. Then, I moved on to the book fair, and relished in the luxury of browsing antique Spanish books, in an assortment of colors and authors. I must have spent quite a while going from stall to stall, because I could not believe my watch when I realized it was time to vamos for dinner.

After dinner I went to the movies…
I just got back from seeing Encatada, or Enchanted, in English. The funny thing is that the first time I heard about this movie was last week, and I felt so behind the times because apparently it´s really popular right now. Since there were no Spanish movies playing in the theatre, I decided that it might be interesting to see the dubbed version, and to see what jokes and ideas were pertinent, also to see the reactions of the Spanish.

Weellll, first of all, concurrently in Nervion there was a huge soccer match going on between Sevilla and Arsenal, meaning there were a bunch of crazy, drunk British fans roaming around Sevilla for the past day or two. I watched the match with my Señora before going to the movie, and I loved to hear the crowd´s reaction on TV as well as hear the roars of the crowd coming from the nearby stadium. Anywho, in the movie theater...there was no one to see the movie! We were laughing so hard and enjoying the luxury of having a private screening. Apparently this movie was number one in the box offices last weekend, but in Spain, only two American girls saw the American movie. It was sooo good! I can´t even imagine what it would be like in English because all of the songs were in Spanish, and it was funny. The ¨happily ever after¨ ending (or, feliz siempre jamas) put is in such a good mood, so we were literally dancing around the empty theater and singing the songs. Oh Disney.

28 Noviembre 2007, Miercoles

Class was cancelled today and for some lucky reason, my lovely construction worker neighbors had the day off, so I enjoyed the luxury of sleeping in. My day was somewhat boring and mundane, so I will not bore you with details, but I did meet Cristina again, and we talked for almost three hours straight, of course half English, half Spanish. I learned that in Spanish, your other half, like the whole falling in love and meeting your other half, is called meeting your ¨media naranja¨ or other half of the orange. We walked through the Alcazar as she made fun of my Spanish, and I made a mental note to never, ever make fun of how anyone speaks a foreign language. She noted that she was impressed with my use of the subjunctive, hehe, which made me quite happy. We then walked through the tiny streets as I showed her some of my favorite places, and she was once again surprised that I know Sevilla better than she does. (she lives in a little pueblo). I love how she called it me showing her ¨my Sevilla.¨ Which, if you can tell how much I love this city, it is. One funny thing is that we stopped to use the bathroom in Starbucks, which Cristina has never ever heard of (imagine!) I explained the American traditions and culture to a very shocked Spaniard.

29 Noviembre 2007, Jueves

Qué rico era mi día! I started off by watching Lucia y el sexo in my cine class, which I have been wanting to see for years, but apparently the reason I could not find it in the states was because it carries the rating of X in the states since our puritan heritage does not permit us to look beyond nudity as something more than carnal, but rather symbolic and natural. It was a fabulous movie, a ¨moebus strip¨combining reality and fiction, and using lots of symbolism. I´m really excited to see what our fabulous professor has to say about it on Monday. I got into a bit of a cat fight with some of the girls in the class because they wanted him to put on subtitles in English which obviously lessens the whole experience of a film, especially since we´re in Spain (duh) to learn Spanish. (I need to learn to not let my feelings show so)

After class Natalia and I discussed the film over café con leche (which I am going to miss like crazy) and then I met up with Cristina to talk a bit. After a bit of Maria del Mar, I ran off to flamenco class. This time, I was a bit early so I wandered around the studio a bit. I found a Jewish blessing for the house hanging in the doorway, and I wondered if they knew what it actually was. Class was TOUGH. If I thought the first class was hard, this was just ridiculous. I learned that I was not stamping my foot correctly (being accustomed to tap dancing) and that the way to correctly stamp your foot makes your whole leg ache. And then we had to do it faster and faster, and then add arms, and then I almost fell over. Well let me tell you, I will never watch flamenco the same way. The ease and grade with which our teacher did everything simultaneously(in addition to counting ¨bada BEEM, chick bam boon BOON!¨) just blew my mind. After class, I decided to ask the secretary about the blessing. She told me it was a hand of Fatima, mean to ward off the evil eye (which it is, I guess) but then I told her about the Hebrew inscription and how it was a blessing for the house, and she was surprised, saying someone had randomly sent it to Alicia, the teacher. As I left, I saw Alicia smoking a cigarette (of course) between classes, and I thanked her profusely for enriching me with her flamenco magic.

Afterwards, I passed through the center to meet some friends in Starbucks (yes Starbucks. Disclaimer…when coming here, I vowed never to go to Starbucks, but I have amended to the rules to allow bathroom use without purchase, and acceptance of free samples) and in fact, Starbucks was having a Christmas party which meant…Free stuff! So of course I was there, and it was fabulous. I honestly don´t understand the fascination with Starbucks that Americans studying in Sevilla have. If you think it´s overpriced in the states, try multiplying everything by 1.5, yet people still go every day, and English is the predominant language spoken. Honestly, we had quite a fun time as we tried everything for free.

Then I finally went to a flamenco show I have been wanting to see ever since I randomly found this cute little museum in Santa Cruz a while ago. It is called Casa de la Memoria and was supposed to be very pure flamenco, which it was. It is in a museum that used to hold the Jewish museum that has recently moved to Cordoba, and is comprised of a beautiful, typical Sevillano courtyard. There re, at most, enough seats for about 30-40 people, so it´s very intimate. The show began as a Sevillano informed the widely American tourist audience that they had to wait to use their precious cameras until the last five minutes of the show, and then three men came out. One was a very gypsy looking guitarist, then another gypsy looking man dressed all in black with a gold earring who was the flamenco version of the beatboxer, and the cantaor, Javier. They began the intricate rhythms of the song randomly yelling things in Spanish the way it´s supposed to be done. It was funny because I´m pretty sure we were the only ones who could understand their thick Andalucian accents because we laughed at the ridiculousness of some of their shouted phrases. (once they yelled ¨Ay que frío!¨oh how cold it is) Then came out the beautiful bailaora dressed all in red. (note, ¨bailador¨ is the Spanish for dancer, but with the Andalucia accent its bailaor, which is a word that has come to be used exclusively for flamenco dancer, same with ¨cantaor¨instead of cantador for singer). She began to dance, and holy crap, it was CRAZY. Her feet were moving faster than my eyes could process, and I just stared open-mouthed as her feet pumped out a wild rhythm. I thought I would never see anything wilder until the bailaor came out, the same beatboxing gypsy who I never thought would be the dancer. He was just ridiculous, it was as if he wasn´t human because I don´t think it´s possible to move your feet like that. He moved around the small space with such tense grace and rapid fire movement that the whole room sat shocked in awe. I cannot put into words how amazing this man was. Dear reader, you will just have to come to Sevilla and see it for yourself.

All too soon, they told us we could take pictures since it was almost the end of the show. I could not believe it, an hour had passed by in what felt like mere moments. Although we were not allowed to film, I clearly did, but they did not perform to the same level of difficulty as before because they knew everyone would diobey the rules.

After the show, Natalia and I went to meet some of our friends in Triana. As I was walking, I ate a piece of chocolate because I hadn´t eaten dinner. Now we had been told about the general Spanish taboo of not eating on the go, something completely contrary to American culture. We had been told to not eat on the bus or anything like that. This old man began to walk to toward me and starting to address me somewhat quietly, I think he was a little crazy. ¨No debes comer en la calle. Que maleducado comer en la calle. Hace falta casarte.¨ He trailed behind us and I wasn´t really paying attention until the last part, to which I absolutely FLIPPED. (Translation…¨You shouldn´t eat in the street. It´s impolite (rude, uneducated) to eat in the street. You need to get married.¨) This was my first personal run-in with the stereotypical machismo which is a problem here in Spain. Especially recently, as the commonness of domestic violence has recently been brought to the forefront of public awareness, and just last week it was National Stop Domestic Violence Day, to which thousands of people marched in the streets in protest. I was a bit in shock for the rest of the night.

We went to a tapas bar to have a snack since I was hungry, and then met up with about eight other people in our program at a café to play cards. We played this really fun game where everyone has a category, and then there´s a lot of yelling involved, to which we just proved the loud, American stereotype to the locals, but we didn´t care. It was a really fun night, I haven´t really hung out with the people in my program socially because everyone just speaks English, and I didn´t come to Spain to do that. But it was still a lot of fun, and I´m glad I got to spend some time with others.

Although, I must confess I spend a lot of time wondering why a lot of Americans study abroad. You´ve already read my disillusionment of why Americans continue going to Starbucks, paying the equivalent of over six dollars for a latte, when café con leche, the exact same thing, is next door for one euro (a dollar forty-eight today). Most of the people in my program, and all of the other Americans I´ve met, hang out in groups of Americans and speak English all the damn time. Even when our program director reminds us that we will not improve our Spanish speaking English, they continue to do it. What´s the point?

30 Noviembre 2007, Viernes RONDA

Today I went to Ronda, a town about two and half hours away by bus that was absolutely gorgeous. The main touristy attractions are the oldest bullring in Spain, and this amazing bridge which is one of the most beautiful sites in Spain I think. It stands over this gorge which has the ruins of Arab baths along with beautiful gardens snaking throughout the valley. In the background are the rolling hills of Andalucía, while lambs dot the countryside grazing on the green, lush grass. It really is a sight to see, we were lucky that the weather was so nice today, because not only was everything GREEN, (caps intended for it was that strong) but in contrast with the blue of the sky, it just took my breath away.

We got into Ronda around 12;30 and walked throughout the city, stopping in a tiny plaza to eat the bocadillos our Señoras had prepared for lunch. A city like Ronda is meant to be wandered around, for seeing the beautiful Andalucían architecture and plants is like no where else in the world. We saw the alcazaba, old fortresses, and churches. We had a cute little black kitten following us around for a while, and then we went to the old bridge to just stare at the countryside and take it all in. We had café con leche at a café literally hanging over the gorge inches away from the bridge, one of the coolest locations ever.

We hit some shops afterwards, although most everything was closed due to siesta. Then we took the bus home around 5. I got home and talked to my Señora about everything over dinner. The thing that is so crazy to think about is the fact that people actually live in pueblos like Ronda, maintaining an existence that their ancestors have done for hundreds of years. I cannot even imagine being a teenager in a town like Ronda, if we complain about nothing to do in the States….

One can argue which way of life is better, the old European way of life or the hustle and bustle of American, but they both have their pros and cons, just like anything. One thing that I can tell you for sure is that when living in a foreign country, you come to question what happiness means, and learn that is completely culturally subjective. For me, happiness is success, success is money, and money comes with hard work. (ok not just money, but generally that´s what it is in our society) In Spain it seems like happiness just is, there is no general definition. Happiness is not glitzy vacations or big houses, but growing up with all of your cousins living in one place from generation to generation, preparing food using the same recipe your great-great-great abuela used, and not worrying about things like retirement planning, college educations, and medical bills. (of course people still do, but not NEARLY to the extent as in America, since all of the above things are paid for by the state). Of course you could argue that people do not have the same opportunity to have the kind of success that people can have in American, but what is that….that is the possession of ¨things¨ and although I prefer my American existence to the antiguity of Spanish culture, I think someone like my intercambio, Cristina, cannot begin to imagine the kind of society we have in America.

VALENCIA...oranges, oceans, y ooohhh so good dessert

Link for pictures:

http://northwestern.facebook.com/album.php?aid=2105245&l=7566b&id=2409539

23 Noviembre 2007, Viernes

Valencia! Today I had lunch with the fam, playing with baby Claudia and talking to the titas. (aunties). We went to the airport and were off to Valencia on my personal favorite airline ever, Vueling. As we were getting off of the plane, we noticed that none of the signs at the airport were in Spanish. Now, Spain has 4 official languages…castellano, gallego, catalán, and euxtarra (Vasque language). And of course we knew in Barcelona that Catalán is spoken, but apparently in Valencia they also speak ¨Valencianá,¨ a close relative to Catalán. I was lucky that my sister Inma was visiting because she lives in Valencia and therefore made a list of things for me to do over the weekend. She also answered every single transportation question, since she works in the airport there. (I love Inma). We hopped on the metro and headed to our hostel, Indigo Youth Hostel, supposedly one of the top ten youth hostels in Europe. It was alright, the one in Malaga was actually exponentially better, but it was everything one comes to expect from a hostel, brightly colored exteriors meant to be ´hip´ and dorm like rooms, with a cleanly (hopefully!) simplicity. Our room had an added plus….a heater! I don´t know if I´ve mentioned this, but since it has become a bit colder in Sevilla, I sleep with at least 3 blankets, a sweater, sweatshirt, and various other layers. We cranked that sucker on high and enjoyed the sauna like steaminess in our room, before heading out to explore a bit. We ended up having dinner in a very Spanish restaurant called Jamón! Jamón! (like I said before, you can´t get much more Spanish than Jamón). We shared an amazing salad and a potato and tomato tapa. Afterwards we walked around Barrio del Carmen a bit, and saw the old Catherdral and Basilica in Plaza de la Reina. We met Natalia´s friend Liz who had flown in from Nantes, and walked around a bit more before settling on coffee and dessert in another café called Pepe Pica. Feeling quite exhausted, we called it a night and decided to get up extra early to see the sights the following day.

24 Noviembre 2007, Sábado

Today we got up at 830, with much silent grumbling in my mind because I had been having one of those amazing dreams, I recall it was something like I found out that I owned an amazing, furnished country house and then……BEEP, BEEP….

Anywho, we went to have our ¨breakfast included¨ which was toast and marmalade. Afterwards we went to the central market, full of fresh fruits, veggies, cheese, meat, sweets, and any other food you can possibly think of. The market was bustling with morning activity as we wandered around, pointing our Spanish delicacies to Natalia´s friend. Valencia is famous for its amazing oranges so we decided to try one out to see what the hype was about.

Having exhausted our senses a bit, we checked out the local shopping scene on Calle Colón, which was not that exciting since right now, I´m quite acclimated to Zara, Bershka, Stradivarius, Pull and Bear, Mossimo Datti, H and M, El Corte Inglés, Mango, Women´s Secret, Calzadonia, and all of the rest of the about 20 stores that make up the Spanish shopping scene. We also got to see Valencia´s Plaza del Toros, which was quite beautiful. We then hopped on a bus and headed to the beach, Playa Malvarrosa.

Even though it was chilly, I took off my boots and headed towards the water. The sand was quite soft and a pleasant kind of warm, which was the complete opposite of the ice-cold water. As we were walking along the beach we witnessed two interesting events, one…a group of people were painting the beach and some little boats resting on the beach. Also, one grandpa got into a fight with a passerby. As we approached I heard the list of Spanish insults, filipollo, maricon, no tiene cajones, etc. The police came to break up the fight. We decided to sit down and eat our Valencian orange. Nearby, a local was building a huge sand castle on the beach, and we watched it grow as we savored the juicy goodness which the orange totally lived up to the hype…we then searched for a recommended paella location, seeing as how paella is at its best in Valencia. We were told we had to wait until 2 o´clock for lunch, so we sat down and gossiped for a bit.

We sat outside right by the beach and ordered sangria. Note: quite interesting is the fact that the whole time I´ve been in Spain, I have only seen sangria offered in touristy locations. Unless it is typical to a part of Spain I have not visited, I really don´t think Spaniards drink it. We have something similar called tinto de verano, but it´s not exactly the same. Hmm….reminder to self to wikipedia sangria.

Anywho, we ordered the mixed paella which came with chicken, rabbit, and seafood. It took another 45 minutes to come, but it was DELICIOUS…we couldn´t finish it because it was sooooo huge. After our delicious meal, we took a bus down to the modern museum park, which has the museum of arts and sciences, and Europe´s largest and best aquarium. The whole park is quite beautiful, it had a modern design, and is all in white. Pools and fountains bring the place to life, and reflect off of the white facades. We decided to go inside the aquarium, and headed straight to the dolphin show. It was amazing! The dolphins did crazy tricks with the trainer which have to be illegal in the United States due to animal rights, but it was way cool to see the dolphins flip up their trainers and jump really high. It was also interesting to hear the whole thing in Spanish…

We wandered around the aquarium and saw belugas, penguins, sharks, and these amazing tunnel aquariums. One thing that I think is so funny in Spain are the translations of captions. You will read something in Spanish, and then the English underneath which is butchered! I don´t know how you could publish something written soo poorly. It´s not like there is no one who doesn´t know English, it´s taught in every school from a young age.

After the museum, we went back to the barrio of Carmen and ate at a typical tapas place recommended by my ¨sister.¨ We had tortilla española, queso manchego, mariscos, and pimientos. Then, we wanted to have dessert so we went inside this Italian restaurant and decided to share a dessert platter. You should see this thing! It was monstrous!!! There were about 4 or 5 different kinds of desserts, all smothered in whipped cream and different kinds of sauce.

We decided to go out and walked around the nightlife district, which of course was still dead around midnight. After having a few drinks, we saw some crazy band play at a club, and then met some interesting English guy at another club. Finally, we ended up at Bolsería, supposedly the hottest Valencian club. It was just like any other place really, but I struck up conversation with an interesting guy. He was an Sri’Lankan Australian, that is, he moved to Australia when he was a child, and now had finished studying commercial law in London to move back and start working in Melbourne. I don´t think he had met many Americans before because he asked me if America was just like American Pie, to which I sadly had to say yes. I learned a lot of things about Sri Lanka, like their main religion is Buddhism but the culture is similar to Indian.

The next morning, we got up early and had a typical Spanish breakfast of no talking until café con leche, and tostadas. Liz left to catch her flight, but Natalia and I continued onwards, exploring. We saw the Columbus marketplace, where a band was getting ready to play, and then took the metro to some place a little farther away to have horchata and fartones. Horchata is a Valencian drink made from ¨chufa,¨im not sure how to say that in English. It´s very vegetabley, and fartones are these long donutey things you dip in horchata. They, were, DELICIOUS….yummm….apparently Valencian ground is perfectly for cultivating chufa, something which the Arab conquerors discovered hundreds of years ago. When we arrived back in the center, we found we had just missed a fallero, or Valencian flamenco, show, and saw pretty little girls dressed in fallero costume, which looks very 18^th century, and just beautiful. We lunched and headed to the airport.

No tirar los papeles en el suelo. Guardar silencio en la iglesia.

19 Noviembre 2007, Lunes

This morning I went to volunteer at Sagrado Corazon de Jesus and ba bum BUMMMM….I had to give an oral quiz to my little Spanish pupils. One girl begged me “Please Estela! Ask us easy questions!” and I just laughed. (not evilly hehe, ok maybe a little).

After class, I met up with Cristina and showed her pictures of my life back home. Her reactions were really interesting, as I showed her pictures from freshman year of college, which is the equivalent of what she is doing now. Her main speculation is that friends are really important, or rather, that I have a lot of close friends to which I explained, since at school you live on your own, your friends become like family. (she was not convinced, nor could she imagine living on her own, as she told me her parents do everything for her).

20 Noviembre 2007, Martes

We watched a peculiar movie en cine hoy. Después, phew it´s hard to switch languages sometimes, I was just typing in Spanish and my first few English thoughts were in Spanglish. Anywho, we had monsoon like weather today, so I stayed in the office most of the day, catching up on internet stuff. I feel so disconnected from American culture, today I got invited to see a movie with my sorority that I hadn´t even heard of but I think is fairly popular in the United States. I´ve never really felt homesick at all, but I feel it a little bit now, I don´t miss places or anything, more like experiences, feelings, and people. For example, I usually do not look forward to the Christmas season and hearing the same songs over and over in the stores, but I kind of miss all of that cheery shit. Oh well, I will be returning quite soon (sooner than I want to admit) and I am sure that I will be having nostalgia for Spain like loooocoooooooo.

My baby Spain niece is making the house a much cheerier place. I love to hear Señora laugh at the baby coos, and having Inma in the house is great. She is the nicest of the three sisters and really makes an effort to talk to me and make me feel cared for. Señora and I have grown closer also, but I still don´t understand her a lot of the time.

21 Noviembre 2007, Miercoles

In my university class about modern history, we have been learning about the history of Israel. Of course, I know the story, but hearing it in Spanish is quite entertaining. A lot of the time I look around at my Spanish classmates, frantically taking notes and wonder what they must think, never having met Jewish people, but watching documentaries about the Holocaust and subsequent creation of a Jewish state. It´s also interesting to hear my professor talk (at length and in monotone) about all of these issues, and I keep waiting for her to show some kind of bias, which so far, she hasn´t.

I went home for lunch today for the first time in over a month I think. (crazy). I had lunch with all of my Spanish sisters and we had lovely conversation. Inma, like I already said, is the nicest, and definitely the most grown up because of having the baby, but she is always smiling or tending house, or just being generally productive. Maria José, the oldest and the director of a school, is the most serious. She doesn´t really talk to me, but does yell at Juan a lot. Marion is the baby of the girls, although she is obviously a grown woman of probably 37-40 years, she is such a child! She whines and giggles, and makes fun of Señora. I´ve never seen her wash a dish, but I like her a lot, and she is quite nice to me as well. I´m also getting more used to Juan, who still weirds me out, but I´ve come to enjoy talking to him during lunchtime. Everyone is obsessed with baby Claudia, and for good reason. Imagine, Señora has 4 children but only 1 grandchild, and she probably will only have one more if Inma decides to have another kid. This is so typical of Spanish families, Señora has countless sisters and brothers in law, and talks of Christmas (actually La Noche Buena, or Christmas Eve) dinners with tables heaving under the weight of so much food, but only 2 kids to buy gifts for (one other cousin has a child). Marion and Maria Jose are the typical liberated Spanish woman, with lots of education and friends, living their own lives but choosing to not have families (which is why there´s definite population issues in Spain).

Today was our last cooking class which makes me sad. I´ve come to love Wednesday night with Isabel, our jolly Spanish teacher who doesn´t speak unless spoken to and doesn´t really let us help much. We made this amazing cream of leek (I think) soup, fried eggplant, and amaaazzziiinnnnggg flany tarta de chocolate. After class, I went home and because of the recent weather, our power went out. Poor Señora was bustling around the house trying to find candles while we entertained the baby. There was still light upstairs so we all went there, and I played cards with Juan and Señora. Señora has issues with blood pressure, so I was a little worried because she told me she wasn´t feeling well, so I entertained her with my (one) amazing card trick and shuffling, something the Spanish can´t do and are amazed by. Spanish cards are different than American cards, and Señora had never seen American cards before so I showed them to her. Juan taught me a few games, and then I taught them War (the only game I could think of).

Since Christmas is definitely in the air, we have started to talk about Christmas traditions and whatnot. Here, they celebrate La Noche Buena and Los Reyes Magos. On the 24^th, all the families get together and have turkey. At midnight everyone goes to mass, and then Papa Noel brings presents for the kids. There´s also special Christmas sweets that are very typical called polverones, mantecados, and alfajores. On the 6^th of January, more important for Spaniards, the Three Kings come and bring special gifts for the kids. The kids put out their shoes overnight, and then the Reyes Magos put gifts by them. If the kids are bad, the get coal put in their shoes. (we saw some candy coal being sold in a shop hehe)

Similar to US tradition, the kids write letters to the Reyes Magos and take them to the Corte Ingles (a huuuggeee Macy´s-esque department store all over Spain) where the ¨cartero¨ or mailman accepts them. Apparently, he has to be a black man dressed up as an elf, I saw a picture and asked Juan about why the person had to be black, and Juan just shrugged and said…¨Es tradición…¨ (I think it has something to do with Black Peter?) Kids also go to El Corte Inglés to sit on Papa Noel´s lap, but Señora crinkled her nose when she told me this, saying it was more commercial than anything.

Roasted chestnuts have been sold on the streets since early November, filling the air with a sweet smell and lots of smoke. They are absolutely delicious. Mmmm….

22 Noviembre, 2007 Día de Acción de Gracias

Thanksgiving. I was missing my family so much today, as I´m sure everyone American who can´t be home for Thanksgiving was. As I told Cristina and my Spanish family about Thanksgiving traditions, I felt the first pangs of really missing home. I didn´t do anything noteworthy today, just had class, met with Cristina to talk, and had lunch at home. Afterwards, I went and Skyped it up with my family. It was so sad to hear my nephew´s voices saying ¨Auntie Stella, come home!¨(all the more cuter because it was in Russian). But I was ok, because even this part of not being home for Thanksgiving makes one really think and learn things, about how something so big and important in one country is absolutely nonexistent in another. In Europe, each country is a lot more conscious of other´s countries traditions,´ unlike in America, where we don´t learn about anything but our own (or make up holidays like Cinco de Mayo…).

Luckily, our program had a special dinner planned for us. On my way there, I walked by the cathedral and decided to give Neha a call, figuring she was probably missing home too. As she picked up the phone, she told me she was standing at a sketchy metro stop in Washington DC. All of a sudden, I heard the strains of ¨If I was a rich man…¨ from an accordion player across the street, one of Neha´s favorite songs and one which she likes to sing constantly without knowing the real words (hehe Neha, someday we will learn them together). I thought of the true intensity and magnitude of the world and even life, imagining myself standing by the famed cathedral of Sevilla, calling my Bombayite best friend, standing on a sidewalk in DC. OK bear with me, and please don´t roll your eyes, because if you´re reading this, you know I like to think about the larger picture.

Our program decided to treat us to a Spanish dinner after realizing that imitating a true American meal would be impossible (mashed potatoes? Cranberries? Whaaatttt?). About half of our program was there, the other half was traveling. We had true Spanish fare…jamón Iberico, picos, sopa, bacalao con tomate, and (ok not so Spanish) tiramisu for dessert. I sat near Celeste, our amazing director, and some of the rest of our coordinators. I love this program so much, I feel like I really lucked out. There are some definite negatives, but overall, the quality of my study abroad experience has been…..impeccable. We toasted Lchaim, yes I know…so weird in Seville, as I explained what it meant to the directors.