26 Septiembre 2007, Miercoles
Today was the first day of University classes…and now, a few moments to describe the chaos that is the University of Seville: the building is a giant rectangle with two floors and two courtyards in the center. The classrooms are arranged in absolutely no numerical order and alternate between using Roman numerals and numbers for the classroom. For example, it is completely normal for Aula (classroom) IX to be right next to Aula 201. It is also completely normal for Aula IX to be on the first floor, and Aula X to be on the second. Now, there are also the same numbered aulas in different facultades, which is what we learned today. I arrived super early because I wanted to find a fun class to sit in on, and I settled for Anthropology of Symbols at 9:45. I began to search for the classroom, thinking 15 minutes was enough time to find the blasted room. Thirty minutes later, I was sure I had passed the same smirking students I asked before how to find the classroom. Cursing in Spanish underneath my breath, I resolved to put the past behind me and look for my next class in Aula IX, a class called El Mundo Actual, the actual world, about political transitions and history of 20th century governments. Somehow, mentally giving myself a high-five, I find Aula IX, and a tapa bar right next to it. (gotta love Spain) I sat down and had a café con leche while browsing the morning paper, secure in the knowledge that yes, I knew the location of my next class. A few minutes later, Natalia called me and joined me for coffee. We made a battle plan: we WOULD make Sevillano friends in the class. We WOULD NOT sit next to each other in class, like most American students. At about five minutes til, we synchronized our watches and put our plan into motion. Outside of the Aula, we met a nice Sevillana named Christina (after kissing cheeks of course) who complimented our Spanish. Little did we know what was to come. I walked into the lecture room and began to find the perfect seat. After switching two times, I settled on the third row. I knew something was wrong when an older man began speaking…our teacher was supposed to be a woman. It took me about 10 minutes to understand a word he was saying…and then another 5 to realize we were in the wrong class. We were in an upper level graduate course on specific amendments to the Spanish constitution. The professor asked questions like “Que dijo el articulo diez y ocho de la constitution?” (what does article 18 of the constitution say?) Thank goodness he did not call on us directly. All of the students around me were scribbling away pages and pages of notes, while I wrote random words like “articulo 18” down. It was one hour of pure torture. That’s when we learned there was more than one Aula IX. After that horrendous experience, we had coffee with Jaoine and her bf, to whom we recounted our experience. We tried a pastry called “bollo de leche” which looked exactly like a bulochka. (look at the similarity of words! Amazing!) (like a little pastry)
After having had two cups of café con leche (which I do not recommend in any circumstance) I decided to try out one class, while Natalia tried out the other. My professor was horrendously boring, not to mention the class was full of extranjeros. Adamant in my quest for Sevillana friends, I tried to strike up conversation with the girl sitting in front of me who, alas, turned out to be French. (her name was Cereal or something).
Later that afternoon, some girls and I decided to try a traditional Spanish dessert: churros con chocolate. (oooohhh yeahhhhh). We went to a famous little place that one of our Senora’s recommended and ordered a bunch. The churros are fried in a huge vat, and come in a giant ring which the guy cute with scissors into the long familiar shape we recognize as churros. They are served on metal platters with packets of sugar on the side which you sprinkle on top. The chocolate is thick and hot, and served in a glass. Churros dipped in hot chocolate……..you can imagine how incredibly happy I was.
After dinner, I went to go see “Casate Conmigo,” an American film dubbed in Spanish which was, as expected, a waste of time. The funny thing was that we went for a later showing, and there was no one in the theater. When we told the people working there, they pretended it was a “mistake,” when really then just didn’t play the movie ‘cuz they didn’t feel like it.
Today was the first day of University classes…and now, a few moments to describe the chaos that is the University of Seville: the building is a giant rectangle with two floors and two courtyards in the center. The classrooms are arranged in absolutely no numerical order and alternate between using Roman numerals and numbers for the classroom. For example, it is completely normal for Aula (classroom) IX to be right next to Aula 201. It is also completely normal for Aula IX to be on the first floor, and Aula X to be on the second. Now, there are also the same numbered aulas in different facultades, which is what we learned today. I arrived super early because I wanted to find a fun class to sit in on, and I settled for Anthropology of Symbols at 9:45. I began to search for the classroom, thinking 15 minutes was enough time to find the blasted room. Thirty minutes later, I was sure I had passed the same smirking students I asked before how to find the classroom. Cursing in Spanish underneath my breath, I resolved to put the past behind me and look for my next class in Aula IX, a class called El Mundo Actual, the actual world, about political transitions and history of 20th century governments. Somehow, mentally giving myself a high-five, I find Aula IX, and a tapa bar right next to it. (gotta love Spain) I sat down and had a café con leche while browsing the morning paper, secure in the knowledge that yes, I knew the location of my next class. A few minutes later, Natalia called me and joined me for coffee. We made a battle plan: we WOULD make Sevillano friends in the class. We WOULD NOT sit next to each other in class, like most American students. At about five minutes til, we synchronized our watches and put our plan into motion. Outside of the Aula, we met a nice Sevillana named Christina (after kissing cheeks of course) who complimented our Spanish. Little did we know what was to come. I walked into the lecture room and began to find the perfect seat. After switching two times, I settled on the third row. I knew something was wrong when an older man began speaking…our teacher was supposed to be a woman. It took me about 10 minutes to understand a word he was saying…and then another 5 to realize we were in the wrong class. We were in an upper level graduate course on specific amendments to the Spanish constitution. The professor asked questions like “Que dijo el articulo diez y ocho de la constitution?” (what does article 18 of the constitution say?) Thank goodness he did not call on us directly. All of the students around me were scribbling away pages and pages of notes, while I wrote random words like “articulo 18” down. It was one hour of pure torture. That’s when we learned there was more than one Aula IX. After that horrendous experience, we had coffee with Jaoine and her bf, to whom we recounted our experience. We tried a pastry called “bollo de leche” which looked exactly like a bulochka. (look at the similarity of words! Amazing!) (like a little pastry)
After having had two cups of café con leche (which I do not recommend in any circumstance) I decided to try out one class, while Natalia tried out the other. My professor was horrendously boring, not to mention the class was full of extranjeros. Adamant in my quest for Sevillana friends, I tried to strike up conversation with the girl sitting in front of me who, alas, turned out to be French. (her name was Cereal or something).
Later that afternoon, some girls and I decided to try a traditional Spanish dessert: churros con chocolate. (oooohhh yeahhhhh). We went to a famous little place that one of our Senora’s recommended and ordered a bunch. The churros are fried in a huge vat, and come in a giant ring which the guy cute with scissors into the long familiar shape we recognize as churros. They are served on metal platters with packets of sugar on the side which you sprinkle on top. The chocolate is thick and hot, and served in a glass. Churros dipped in hot chocolate……..you can imagine how incredibly happy I was.
After dinner, I went to go see “Casate Conmigo,” an American film dubbed in Spanish which was, as expected, a waste of time. The funny thing was that we went for a later showing, and there was no one in the theater. When we told the people working there, they pretended it was a “mistake,” when really then just didn’t play the movie ‘cuz they didn’t feel like it.
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