A long awaited update!

So, as mentioned before, it's been awhile. I always get backed up because I want to do everything justice. It hardly works because in the end, I end up almost doing nothing. I'll do this best I can:

Perol: I got invited by the wife of a teacher at my school to a Spanish-style BBQ, which is basically going out into the country (here, the mountains nearby), eating all day, drinking all day, and finishing off with a rice dished cooked over an open fire. We got picked up at 9.30 and didn't get home until after 18.00. The food was indeed delicious (nothing like chuletas cooked to perfection with nothing but a little salt and pepper) and it was a great chance to bond a bit more with some other teachers and natives.

Thanksgiving: Went amazingly. We had about 24 people (including me and the Roommies) and lots of amazing food. It was packed and incredibly memorable. My mom actually sent me bags of fresh cranberries, which we made two different recipes. I made a couple pumpkin pies from the Halloween pumpkin which the roommates thoroughly enjoyed. The only downside is I worked so hard the week of Thanksgiving, the very next day I fell under the weather which kept me in the rest of the weekend.

Community Garden: One of the teachers whom I tutor and have a lot of the same interests invited me to a community garden co-op that she's a part. Her partner in crime was traveling, so she gave me half of her allotted bundle: beautiful lettuces, cabbage, eggplants, fennel, etc. The people there were exactly the bunch of people that you'd expect to see at a farmers market in Berkley (or at least Spain's version thereof). There were many dreads or short cuts on women, self-knit colorful scarves, bikes with baskets, and clunky boots. It was one of the few times I have really felt like I have encountered a group of truly progressive minded people in Cordoba, and it was really nice. Not to mention the food was delicious afterwords. Best salads ever.

Madrid: For the long weekend (I had five days off!) I had originally planned on going to Granada again to visit my Frosh-year roomie and do some Christmas shopping, but a last minute invite from my roomies, Carlos and Isa, sent me on my way to Madrid. It was my first time in the city, apart from a short journey on the Madrid Metro a year ago. It was a beautiful city full of people (and especially full given the long weekend and the initiation of the Christmas lights). Isa and Carlos were amazing tour guides; taking me to all the hot spots right away (Puerta del Sol, Plaza Mayor, Gran Via). The first night (our "chill" night) we stayed out bar hopping until nearly 4am. The next day we stayed in the apartment playing games watching games and talking until 4am when we went out (a spat of drama meant that we didn't end up going to the discoteca, but was alright with me as we still got home and into bed hours before we would have anyway). The next day we stayed in and warm until the evening and went out into La Latino barrio for good wine and delicious food (homemade potato chips with salmorejo poured on top anyone?). We headed back the next day with Carlos's cousin making a pit stop in their pueblo where I had a delicious meal and a warm nap at Isa's beautiful home. I was extremely grateful I made the last minute decision to go, and speaking Spanish for 4 days straight was definitely a great boost too.

The Padre arrives: I forged staying the evening in Isa's pueblo to clean and prepare for the arrival of Dad. He came the last day of my long break on an overnight train from Paris. It was wonderful to see my family (even if they had to come in shifts). Dad and I spent a lot of time walking and touring the sights and restaurants of Cordoba and finding a lot of spots that I had been meaning to get to for a long time. The first weekend we went to Sevilla (deciding that we'd save Granada for the Spring). It was interesting in that the first day we arrived, we tried to find our way to the Cathedral, but any way we went, we found the streets blocked off. Finally, we gave up and tried to get into the Alcazar. After a police escort past the fist 'police' barricades, we ran into a somewhat-private viewing of the filming of the new Tom Cruise and Cameron Diaz film. After watching the first take of a car chase around the cathedral, a Ducati bike pulled by a camera truck came right in front of us. Is that who I think it is? Nope, must be their doubles. Nope. Wait. Let me get out my camera! There was Cruise and Diaz not more than 40 feet in front of us (I personally was more excited about Diaz). Overall, I found it ironic that I saw more Hollywood action in Sevilla, Spain than in my 4 years in Los Angeles. Apart from that, we saw all the sights, ate wonderful food, and I found my castañas (chestnuts - actually roasted on a rudimentary open fire) for the season. Yum.

Madrid - The Folks switch off: Dad and I went back up to Madrid. I finally got to travel on the AVE (the high speed train, one of which runs from Sevilla to Madrid and back) - what a rush! Beautiful mountains, beautiful sky, and endless horizons of olive trees. Although it was a bit chillier, it was beautiful weather for the day we arrived. We had a great hotel close to everything exciting. We walked around endlessly and even went back to the same great potato chip place for dinner (then walked around a lot more to trick my mind into thinking that I didn't have a lump of yummy fried food in my belly). The next day we had an adventure getting to the airport to pick up Mom. It was so exciting seeing the other part of my immediate family and having us all together, even briefly. We went and found a place for paella (we were the only ones in the restaurant, not extremely fun, but the food was great). Took a little nap (I had gotten very little sleep the night before as I was waiting to hear from Mom to see if she had made it on the plane - another story to tell, and one very familiar to anyone familiar with flying standby), and enjoyed the rest of the Christmas light sights in the evening. We said good by to Daddy, got a couple of Starbucks (enjoying the big cups and skim milk), shopped a bit (found the best cookie shop in Spain), found a wonderful vegetarian restaurant (I was excited for a bit of a change from traditional Andalucian food), and headed back to Cordoba on the Ave, and arrived less than 2 hours later.

Since then, Mom and I have been enjoying a cozy and lazy holiday. It's been a bit rainy, but not very cold (aside from the first day). Its been a tad difficult to spend long amounts of time outside walking, but there have been beautiful moments where the weather's let up enough time for a nice walk with the Christmas lights. Christmas Eve and Day were comfortable and quiet, and just what I enjoy, filled with love and kindness from those far and near. Tomorrow we head off to Sevilla to check it out while the weather lets up for a day. Next week we hope to do more touristy things in and around Cordoba and draw up fun plans for the new year. Knowing us, it will be another quiet and cozy night in - and there's nothing wrong with that!

Many Apologies

Don't worry. I'm fully aware that it's been too long since I updated this.

I think it's because I've just had so much to write about and so little time.

And update will come, soon.

As vacation starts at 11:30 tomorrow morning. Phew.

Culture Shock

So, it finally happened. I experienced the dreaded "culture shock" last week that I guess I'd been putting off.

The bad news: It really, really sucked.
The good news: I'm pretty sure it's behind me now.

As I've mentioned before, I've lived abroad previously. In college, I studied in New Zealand. Not exactly the biggest cultural difference as I think most the country strives to imitate the United States. The language was the same (aside from the funny accent), the food was mostly the same (rarely could I not find something I was looking for, or at least then I knew what I was looking at when reading labels), the daily schedule was the same, values, customs, life etc. was all generally the same. So although I had lived somewhere else, I definitely never had to face the same sort of challenges that I have had to here.

Before last week, I definitely had my difficult moments: at school, the supermarket, the gym. But last week, a perfect combination of exhaustion and frustration came together to make it particularly difficult to bare.

Cesar (our bilingual coordinator at our school) has the uncanny ability to frustrate me to my core. He is disorganized and defensive. After working at the school for nearly 6 weeks, he decided to rearrange our schedules - changing our classes, teachers, times, frequencies. I was unhappy that 3 of my 5 classes with students were changed from once a week to once every two weeks (a perfect amount of time to really build a great relationship with the students), one of my classes was removed, and replaced with a class that had already been working with the other Auxiliar at my school (I'm sure they loved that - ah, consistency), and added another class which I would be working with every other week. And after the schedule change, 2 of my teachers didn't show up, I was castigated for not inherently knowing where one of my new classes was located (in a school where the teachers don't even know the room numbers of the classrooms they teach in), and 2 more of my teachers show up 25 minutes late to a 55 minute tutor session.

Breath. Just breath.

I think I could have handled it. But I think what I realized that the key to "culture shock" is not so much an overall experience (at least for me). Instead its the little things that I might be able to overcome quickly at home just seem to only escalate here. A bad day at work doesn't always end at work. And instead of having the escape of the familiar, there really is no escape at all. I leave school and I walk to the market and I encounter the packed isles and long lines. I go to the gym and fight off the old man that interrupts my workouts to repeatedly tell me that I don't know much Spanish (I know it well enough to know that he's insulting me and can't say my name right for his life). Then I go back home only to find the same dishes that have been in the sink for 2 days and the one I want is at the bottom at the pile. And now if I could only express my frustration in my non-native language. No escape. That is culture shock.

But as I said before, the good news is, I believe it is all behind me. After having a much needed confession-session with the family and having even the possibility of being able to go home for Christmas (only the possibility, as I've already recommitted to staying in Spain for the holidays), I'm feeling refreshed and revamped. Going to Granada last weekend was a huge boost. Cesar is more calm this week, making me much more calm. I think I've finally found an eating schedule that I think will make me happier (sorry Spain, really wasn't able to adapt to that custom), my only dilemma now being that I really need to make more of an effort to converse with the roomies. I'm enjoying my private classes (ironically, they're with Cesar's daughters, which are precious when they're not squirrely), and have a new intercambio that I think will be very positive.

Overall, I feel like I've weathered the storm and came out fairly unscathed.

Working Out: Spanish Style

Last week I joined the closest gym to where I live, Fitness First. In the week that I've been there, I've definitely noticed some interesting cultural differences that I've mentally bookmarked. (Note: before coming to Spain, I worked at a gym, so admittedly, I probably find it all a lot more interesting than most others.)

• I have seen some of the shortest shorts I've seen yet in Spain. On a man.
  

• I encountered some of the most obvious fake boobs I had seen yet, and similar to the US, this woman had every intention of showing of what she paid for.
  

• The relaxed attitude really does permeate every single part of their culture. In the US I was used to being kind of the slow one on the cardio machines. Here, I could probably beat 90% of the gym-goers in a race. Many people mosey on the machines the same way they do on the streets.

• I have never seen the weight machines be used so much as chairs. I think most of the problem is that they have never learned about "super sets", and instead do all three sets of a machine at the same time, taking extended breaks just sitting on the machine. This is especially frustrating for someone like me who likes to work my sets quickly. Not only am I a firm believer that this is not only a rude way to use the machines, but also the incorrect way to workout. Mostly, I blame it on the trainers, who during the "first workout" failed to even point this out (probably because they seem to know very little about actually working out).

• When I was taking a tour of the gym before actually joining, my consultant showed me first the weight machines and then the free weight area. He made a point of telling me that although this was the free weight area, it wasn't really an area that was for me to use and I would be better off sticking to the machines. I'm not sure if he said that because he somehow perceived a lack of experience on my end, or simply because the free weight area is dominated by males, and it is meant to stay that way. Although I haven't yet ventured into this area, I intend to disturb the delicate hormone balance before my time is up.
  

• There is absolutely no policy about wiping down the machines after use. Now, admittedly, in the US, although it is asked of gym patrons to do so, it is not always the case. However, there aren't even signs or requests or materials to even fake it. They ask you to put on disposable gloves at the market when you pick out your fruit, but don't worry about wiping down your machine.
  

• The services offered made me laugh. Along with the usual classes, trainers, child care, etc., Fitness First offers a wide selection of DVDs to rent, a computer with internet, and a coffee bar with tables. Spaniards will never miss a moment to sit down and gab over cafe con leche.
  

The Ferria - Jaen style!

Last weekend I made my way to Jaen for their annual fair (La Ferria). It was a great excuse to go visit my favorite ladies who were placed in Jaen, see another city, and experience something completely Spanish.

Let me back up a bit. In Spain (or at least Andalucia), most cities/towns have an annual fair. In the past, they served much the same purposes as the fairs in the United States; the farmers came together to show off and sell their produce and livestock. But unlike the US where the fairs still have some semblance of the old pastoral traditions, no longer do Spanish fairs. Jaen's ferria struck me as a mix between the country howdown and and overflowing night in West Hollywood. There were the bumper cars and fun houses, cotton candy and expensive fair food, and many other typical fair fare all alongside rows and rows of tents set up for bars and dancing, each one a unique discoteca.

So like most other nightly happenings in Spain, we showed up to the fair after shortly after midnight when things were still quiet. After dabbling in some of the delectable food offerings, including filled churros, candied almonds, and patatas (um, there are always patatas), taking a bathroom break at an especially heinous bathroom, we finally found ourselves dancing away at one of the more popular tents, Mombasa. As the time rolled close to 3, we were pooped (as we usually do, we had intentions of staying out all night like the Spanish do), and we made it back to the apartment.

We made it back to the fair the next night to only be welcomed by large swarms of people that came to take part in the last night of the festivities. Being so overwhelmed by the numbers and the large amounts of trash and broken glass on the ground (trash cans become somewhat nominal at the fair), we decided to walk around once to see anything we missed the first night, eat again what we liked before, and dance to one last song, before calling it a night. As we were walking back at nearly 2am, it was as if we were salmon swimming upstream, and it was obvious that most people were making their way to the fair at that early hour. Near the Plaza del Torros, we found Jaen's botellon (the weekend sport for young adults that are essentially drunkenly protesting the recent "no drinking in public" law - get enough hords of people together and the police are too overwhelmed to care). Thousands of young Spaniards were gathered together to drink the night away before stumbling it off at the fair. It was by far one of the most overwhelming sites I've seen in Spain thus far, and not one that I was eager to participate in either.

That nights we fell asleep to the murmur of activity from the streets below of all those enjoying Ferria until the early morning hours. It was the end of the great weekend and a thorough cultural experience.

Lesson #1 in Spain

It is impossible to do anything quickly in Spain, at least when one is relying on other people to also move quickly. This is not a value judgment, at least not initially, because natives don’t care and don’t have the need to do anything with great speed. So it really only bothers people, like me, who are accustomed to other things.

Today I had an hour break between two of my classes and I had some errands to run. Because my school is in the center of the city, I figured this would not be a hard task to complete.
I walked briskly to El Corte Ingles, the main store in the center, much like a department store with most everything you’d ever have a desire to find. My list was short: birthday card, and snacks. After getting the card (which took slightly more time than I had allotted) I went up to the market and found some fast snack and went to stand in the line.

Lesson #1: Markets are ALWAYS busy in Cordoba. And even if there aren’t a lot of people in the isles (which there usually are), there are always a lot of people waiting to check out. I think there are usually a lot of people in the markets because unlike the US, people grocery shop most days (they don’t have the tendency to “stock up” to the same degree that we do, and are therefore having to shop on a daily basis for most meals they prepare. So the lines are always long partially because there are always a lot of people. But the lines are also very long because there isn’t the same demand/pressure/necessity for the cashier to work briskly (I think this could possibly originate from their naturally slower pace in Spain or the fact that every job has tenure). So the cashiers take their time, do their own price checks, stop the line to do an exchange, all various things that inevitably make the lines incredibly long and slow.

Today was no different. At first I was waiting in a line when an older couple with a filled cart [very intentionally] cut the line in front of me and told me I was better off waiting in a different line. OK. I moved to a different line where the cashier was nowhere to be found. I then moved to another line. The first customer was counting out exact change (oh, and they usually only deal in cash, and in [mostly] exact change, so it takes a little longer than just swiping a card). Then an older gentleman that had already checked out was waiting for a price check (and I assume a refund too) which the cashier started to help then had to call over another cashier (who was already having issues with her stand). I was still another 3 people deep in line and had to forfeit my groceries so I could ensure getting back to school in time.

I was definitely frustrated (mostly because I was hungry), but also was fully aware that it was probably only a problem for me and no one else (who are probably all very accustomed to such practices), which put it all in perspective. Overall, I came to the conclusion that the reason everyone is notoriously late is Spain is because they’re all waiting in market lines.

Little spanish tradition

There is an odd tradition that I’ve noticed. Most late afternoons and early evenings there is a group of older people that sit outside on the benches lining the sidewalk diving the main street below our apartment. I’m not sure what they do (besides talk), but it is remarkable and I love it. In Spain it is untraditional to invite people other than family into your home, and this is why it is very common for people to go out a lot (either for drinks or small meals). So it also seems to reason that since they don’t invite friends in, one must go out, and I think that’s exactly what all these people are doing. And for me, it’s so very amusing. Maybe one day I’ll sit with them.

Back to school again.

So as I said in my last post, a lot has happened since I first arrived in Cordoba: one being that I found an apartment and the other being that I had started work.
Last Thursday was my first official day working at my school.

There is actually one other American from my program that also works at my school, Luis de Góngora. The day before our first day, we dropped by the school to meet our coordinator, César (actually Andrew, the other American, had already met him). It was a relief going before our actual first day as it relieved much of the anxiety I had over just showing up (not only would I have probably come much earlier than needed, but I wouldn’t have known how to get in, where to go, or who I was to meet, all things I didn’t particularly want to leave to the first day).

We arrived at 10:30 and met with Cesar to go over our schedules for the rest of the year. Cesar had split two schedules mostly evenly: one with most afternoons off and Fridays free, the other with mornings off and Mondays free. Andrew and I both wanted the same schedule (the one with Fridays off) and ended up flipping a coin for it. I won the toss and therefore have Fridays off. Although it does come with a bit of a price: the schedule isn’t as compact (more free periods in between classes) including one class in the evening (745-830) which means walking the distance twice in one day. Kind of sucks, but I knew that most everyone else would probably have Fridays off two and it would absolutely suck (maybe not absolutely, but would be unfortunate) if I had to work.

After working only an hour, it was break time and the teachers took us to a place next to school and treated us to Chocolate y churros (my first since returning to Spain – absolutely delicious!). There we met the headmaster and a couple other teachers, also escaping school for their break (all making the point that there used to be a cafeteria within the school but no one went because it gave them the creeps and they just preferred leaving). We also learned that the school itself is hundreds of years old, at first being a private school run by the church and then made public in the 19th century.

Back to finishing the schedules and going through duties. To finish off the day, Andrew and I were introduced to Cesar’s class where we got asked the normal routine of “what is your favorite…” questions.

Today I had a conversation class with the Arts and Crafts teacher who happens to be an extraordinary comic writer. I also taught two of my cultural lessons (one of which I didn’t get to complete as it took the first 20 minutes to actually find the classroom, the other I had too much time and resulted to more “what is your favorite…” questions, which I figure aren’t too bad for the first day of class).

My last class finished at 3:00. I went back to the bilingual office where I wrote I quick email, gathered up my things and shut down the computer. I couldn’t have been more than 5 minutes. When I left the office and was locking up, I was gently scolded for still being inside the building and was told I needed to leave immediately. This wasn’t shocking but I couldn’t help but feel how strange it was that it was so uncommon (and not even allowed) for teachers to stay after classes, either working or helping students. It was definitely very different from what I was used to going to school.

Tomorrow I have 2 more culture lessons and another conversation class (this time with the Math teacher). I will finish class at 11:30, so I wont have the same time conflict when leaving as I did today. ☺

Finding a Piso en Cordoba

So it’s been a little over a week since I arrived in Cordoba and everything is vastly different than it was a week ago. One being that I have a home. Two being that I’ve starting working.
My first few days in Cordoba were mostly filled with apartment hunting. Overall I visited 5 apartments, all very different and very interesting. In the order that I visited them:

Piso #1: In Ciudad Jardin. 20 minute walk to work. British girl that also came to Spain to teach was moving to different city. Big kitchen, one bathroom, sitting room a little run down. Bedroom had 2 [questionably comfortable] beds, large armoire which fit two beds, and nothing else (no desk). Didn’t meet either of the potential roommates. 220 euro/mo.

Piso #2: On Avda Barcelona. 25-30 minute scenic walk to work. Big kitchen, one bathroom, room well equipped (although did forget to try out bed). Would not have been able to move in immediately, and potential roommate did not seem especially friendly. 165 euro/mo.

Piso #3: In Ciudad Jardin. 20-25 minute walk to work. Big kitchen. 2 bathrooms. 2 roommates, both friendly (although 1 smoker). 2 decent mattresses in room, small desk, and had one of the 5 balconies in the apartment. 160euro/mo.

Piso #4: In Santa Marina. 15 minute walk to work. Small kitchen, small bathroom, 4 bedrooms. Shared washing machine on roof (with beautiful view). Kind of old and not very well equipped. Very kind potential roommate. 150 euro/mo.

Piso #5: In the Center. 5-10 minute walk to work. Decent kitchen, big bathroom, no air or heating, 2 private patios. Queen bed, big armoire, dresser, and 2 night stands. Hadn’t met potential roommate (only one other room). 225 euro/mo + 100euro finding fee.

In the end I chose Piso (apartment) #3. I was between #5 and #3 and even after choosing 3 I immediately doubted my decision, mostly because of the smoker and the distance to work. But ultimately I chose 3 because I liked the roommates, I liked the price, and overall it definitely seemed like the coziest apartment of the two. And anyone who knows me knows that being cozy is very important to me. When I picked up my keys a couple days later I found out that there was another flatmate that I hadn’t met yet (I failed to notice that there were 4 rooms instead of 3). So in total there are 2 girls and 2 boys. All are students at the university and seem very low-key. There’s Isa (22), Carlos (23), Paco (21)! I definitely have the “small room” but it’s adequate and I love it. There are things that still need to be fixed in it (the shelf in the closet, an outlet by my desk), and once that happens and we get internet (hopefully this week – it’s in the works), I know I will feel even better.

Upon arriving back to the piso after my first day of work, late and dragging my few remaining bags from the hotel, my roommates were sitting down to lunch and they asked me if I had eaten anything yet. Of course I hadn’t and had been expecting to still go grocery shopping before I could eat lunch, I was extremely grateful for their invitation and generosity and sat down with my three other roommates for my first meal in the apartment. Since they have also invited me out a few different times. And I’ve been impressed with Isa’s organization and the overall cleanliness of the apartment (we have a chore chart!). So regardless of the few minor things that still need to be resolved, at the present moment, I couldn’t be happier with my decision.

Adios Sevilla!

Yesterday we arrived in Cordoba and now Sevilla is but a distant memory. Ok, maybe not so distant. The first two weeks in Sevilla were amazing, and I was a little sad to leave. (I do stress “little”, as I was also really excited to get to Cordoba and start looking for a place to live. It’s no fun living out of a suitcase.) I left very grateful that I chose to spend the extra two weeks in the immersion course for a few different reasons.

One: I’m convinced that the greatest benefit of the immersion course was not the classes. We had nearly 4 hours a day of classes, but this did not help as much as just being here for those two weeks. My difficultly with Spanish had nothing to do with learning the difference between the preterit and imperfect tenses. My greatest hurdle was (and still is to some extent) being so timid about speaking the language (and heaven forbid!) getting something wrong. Folks who know me probably giggle because they know this is true. I don’t want to look like a fool, and doing something wrong that I know I can do right drives me up a wall. Unfortunately, you just can’t wait in line for 15 minutes for helado just because I can’t think of the present-perfect-tense for haber querer immediately. So these last two weeks have been most helpful in just getting me to talk. Whether I say it perfectly or not, I’m saying it and I’m practicing it, and they’ll understand me (eventually).

Two: I loved the people in the program. Given two weeks of being foreigners in a strange country, you get pretty familiar with the people in the group, and I know the same bonds would not have been made during a 4 day orientation/party at a hotel. I was sad to separate from them after the two weeks, but the silver lining (more like platinum lining) is that I now have a group of people all across the south of Spain that I’m totally stoked to go and visit.

Three: It is an invaluable experience to live with a native family and given the opportunity, I will always try a live with someone (as opposed to a hotel) when traveling. I’ve only done a homestay one other time of my life, where I learned a lot. I was most fortunate that this time around I had another good experience and actually learned even more. They were a very kind and generous family and helped me with my speaking and understanding of the language a great deal (did I mention how patient they were!). But even with that, that was not my favorite part of my homestay. For example, the second week of my stay with them, three more girls from Switzerland moved in for the week as they visited Sevilla through a school program. My senoras reactions and comments to these three girls and their behavior was a more enlightening experience than for which I could have even asked. My senora became irritated as the girls kind of stayed to themselves and didn’t really interact much with me or the family. And she was absolutely incensed by the fact that one of the girls was a vegetarian. Not very sympathetic (or maybe was just ignorant to the general guidelines of vegetarianism) she would feed her leftovers of a dish that had been cooked with chicken and pork (just picking out the meat), and at the end she simply fed her the same soup, calamari and everything (I’m not sure if she was hoping that she just wouldn’t notice the obvious fish taste and chewy pieces or she was just left up to picking them out herself). Suffice it to say, being a former vegetarian I had a good feeling that these two weren’t going to make very good impressions on one another, and I was grateful that I had already made the decision to go full-meat eater in Spain. Overall, these differences are the kind of thing one would not really know (or at least fully appreciate) if they had merely stayed at a hotel while visiting Spain. They would also not know that going barefoot in the house is absolutely out of the question, or it’s completely routine to eat dinner at 10:30 in your pajamas. And I am so grateful that I now know about these things.

Living in a movie

So far it’s been wonderful. I’ve already fallen in love with Spain. It’s so hard to believe that people actually live here (as oppose to vacation here, or take extended vacations here as teachers, eh em) and walk through these beautiful streets and buildings without (it seems) a second thought. Heck, even when I lived in Los Angeles, I still got thrilled every time I drove by the Chinese Theater or Capitol Records building.

It’s definitely already been a sufficient challenge working on my language skills, but nothing that felt too daunting yet. I’m able to understand most people about 40% of the time. My host family is very kind and I understand them much better as I’m sure they do try to simplify their speech a little bit for me. They’re wonderful about correcting me and my grammar or helping me with my vocabulary. It only gets difficult – rather impossible - when they all start talking at the same time. Understandable. But all very exhausting too.

The first full day they took us on a tour of Sevilla, finishing off with tapas, drinks, and finally a flamenco show. I had previously been exposed to flamenco in Spanish restaurants in the states (not much, but a little), and actually saw a show when I was in Granada last year. This particular show blew all my previous exposure away. It was held in a patio within a building with vines growing up the walls, lanterns lit at the front of the stage not more than 10 feet from where we were sitting. The woman was gorgeous, sensual, and extremely talented. The man had an Antonio Banderes look to him (perhaps a slightly more petite version). By the end of the show, his shirt was sticking to his chest and back, the ends were untucked, and his hair (wet with sweat) had come out of the elastic. (At one point, before all his hair had come out, he made a quick turn with his head and a single, wavy strand fell in front of his face. I nearly let our a gasp as it seemed like it was straight from a movie.) Increible! The show has probably been one of my favorite things yet (can anyone wonder?!).

The other day as I was walking back to my home stay, I crossed over the river just as the sun was setting. The rain clouds that had been out all day were lit just beautifully behind the tall, decorated buildings and towers along the river. It was so nice to take it all in and know that there are many more months of similarly breathtaking experiences.

The journey to Spain

Preface: I wrote this the day I arrived and have only now had internet. I'll do another update the next time I have internet. It's very long, I apologize.

Well. It’s official. I’m in Spain.
Other than that, there’s not much to show for my trip. I realize that once I relay the story of my journey over here, it’s going to seem as if I had never really traveled before, which is far from the case. Simply a series of mishaps that managed to pile up like a snowball, burying me along with the avalanche that came down with it.

It started of innocently enough. My bags were at a good weight, and I only had to leave 2 things at home to bring them right under the 50lbs limit, neither of which will be missed (they were last minute adds anyway). Although I had requested a window seat, neither of my US flights were assigned as windows. A bummer, not life ending.

Got to Philadelphia on time only to wait for an open gate on the tarmac. Fortunately, my two gates were fairly close together, and the delay wasn’t an issue. On the flight to Barcelona, I managed to snag a window seat in an open row, and I thought: what a good omen!

Haha. Joke’s on me.
Because of weather in Philadelphia, our flight didn’t take off until an hour past schedule. We arrive 45 minutes late. According to my itinerary, I originally had a 1hr 50min layover.
I found someone coming off the plane with me that is also doing the CIEE program and is also taking the same flight to Sevilla.

T-60 minutes until my flight to Sevilla. I get to immigration. I can’t find my passport. Fast forward 15-20 minutes, I find it. No big deal. I’m not worried yet because I get through immigration quickly and to the baggage claim where most of my flight is still waiting for their luggage anyway.

After 15-20 minutes of waiting, the luggage belt stops and my bags are nowhere to be found. I’m thinking they might have missed the connection since my flight was late coming in. I go to the desk. Whoops. Bags are supposed to be picked up in Sevilla. What?! Granted I haven’t traveled internationally extensively, but my experience has led me to believe that passengers usually go through customs in the first city they land in another country other than the one they departed from (as also confirmed by my ticket agent in Phoenix). Obviously, today was not the case (is this common in Europe? Can’t say I’ve done many flight transfers in this continent). At this point I’m upset because of my passport debacle, I was separated from the only other person that might have gotten me on the right track from the beginning.

T-15 minutes. I book it to the check in counter only to find a long line and manage to get to a side agent who checks me into the flight (already thinking it’s probably closed, but telling me to run anyway).

T-10 minutes. I had never run with such purpose in my life. I get through security relatively quickly. On the other side, just can’t find my gate. I look everywhere for it and finally find someone to ask for directions (I usually pride myself on my ability to get around any airport - a total blow to my ego). Turns out, it’s at the end of the concourse and I get there just 90seconds before the plane pushes off. IT WAS AT THE GATE! Just too late. I figure, not a huge deal, I’ll get the next one.

Haha. Joke’s on me.
Turns out SpanAir has no more flights to Sevilla, and I must contact my booking agent and book/buy a ticket on Vueling, which has the next (and last?) flight from Barcelona to Sevilla (my feeling was that they were the Southwest Airlines of Spain with much hotter flight attendents).
I run around, find a phone card. I run around, find a telephone. I call CheapOAir (yes, I purchased my tickets from a website called “CheapOAir”. Now is not the time to comment. Snickers will suffice). Waited for 15 minutes to get a hold of a man from South East Asia whom I can barely understand. Had to purchase a ticket . I gave him all my info and credit card number. As I’m waiting for it to be processed, we’re disconnected.

You have got to be kidding me.
Called again. Tried using a different touch-pad number to hopefully get through to someone faster. Wrong. Waited 20 minutes with no answer (but I thoroughly understood that my call was “very important”).

T-80 minutes to next flight departure. Hung up and tried again through the original route. Didn’t wait as long (thank goodness!) and got through to the same person (thank goodness!) who assured me that he had been trying to contact me the last 20 minutes and had been leaving messages (um… guess he didn’t catch on when I told him I was stuck in Barcelona). Regardless, transaction processed. A pretty penny later and I’m on my way again.

Haha. Joke’s on me!
I run around trying to find where I can get my ticket issued. A kind woman at information directed me towards an Iberian Air desk on that side of security that should help me. Sweet, I’m thinking. Don’t have to go through security again.

Haha!
I get to the counter, they have no record of me purchasing the ticket (even though it’s been the allotted 10-15 I was told it would take to issue the ticket) and now they are asking for 102 Euros. I’d have to go outside of security to the actual Vueling check-in counter to figure it out.
T-60 minutes to departure.

At the check-in counter, they can’t find me either. Thankfully, all is not lost, and after a few phone calls, I am found in the system and my ticket is issued. I ask them if there’s anyway a call can be made to the Sevilla airport/baggage claim as my luggage should be arrive their on my original flight, and if something could be done to make sure it was in a secure location where I could claim it when I finally did arrive (as I had been able to do on occasions in the US, as flying standby this had definitely happened to me before). Unfortunately, no such call was able to be made, and I was just told that I’d have to wait and see when I got to Sevilla (but they did see to make sure I was aware that if there were any problems with my bags not making it, that I was to take that up with SpanAir, NOT Vueling).

Whatever, I’m thinking. I’m sure they’ll be waiting for me.

Haha. (You know the cue).
Our flight to Sevilla is delayed by nearly an hour because of a change of aircraft (the pilots make good time and squeeze the window down to just 40 minutes late). Phew. I’m here. But where’s SpanAir? Well, apparently, because they don’t have anymore flights in an out of Sevilla for the rest of the day, they all went home for siesta and aren’t even answering their given phone numbers. I don’t blame them, except it’s highly problematic that my luggage may or may not be locked away in their possession (best case scenario).

So here I am. In Spain, in the hotel, immensely grateful I brought along a couple changes of clothes and my toiletries. I sweat so much today from all the running around, I already changed my shirt once at the airport (I caught a glimpse of myself in the glass while I was waiting the 20 minutes for a booking agent and realized why everyone had been looking at me strangely – it literally looked like someone had thrown a bucket of water at my back. Not pretty. The upside was that I was probably fitting in quite nicely as I most likely smelled like an infamous European too.

Sitting for my last flight (the one I finally made), I did make a striking comparison. Being that our flight was almost an hour delayed, without many updates from the gate agents as to the status, I was remarkably encouraged by the fact that no one seemed to be the slightest bit irritated or inconvenienced. In fact, many of the travelers seemed to be in a relatively good mood (maybe they had more information from the start than I did, but I’d like to believe this was actually evidence of their good nature). And that wasn’t just at my gate. Overall, the airport just didn’t seem to be full of the frustrated and frantic people that dominate US airports. It was refreshing and definitely put in me in a better place to roll with the punches today threw at me. And there were certainly enough of them! Bottom line is: I'm here, and it's gorgeous, and I'm so happy to begin the next 10 months!

Update: I received my bags 36 hours later! I couldn't have been happier. Phew!

Farewell my friends!

Last night I had a send-off party at a friend's house. It was wonderful. My friend Lindsay, whose house it was at, was absolutely amazing, and pulled out all the stops. We came up with a menu partly inspired by Spanish cuisine: homemade sangria, prosciutto on melon, olive tampanade on rye bread, poached pears with blue cheese and almonds. All amazingly tasty, and I couldn't get enough. The rest was fabulous too: BBQ pulled chicken, potato salad (best ever!), brownies, fresh salsa (props to Ed), and s'mores (best I've ever had).

Of course though, the best part had to be the company. Not all my favorite people could make it, but those who did made it very memorable and enjoyable. Thank you so much to all of you that did make it. And for those who didn't, you missed an amazing meal, but you will be missed even more!

Most of all, it just made me feel immensely grateful for the people I've met the last 15 months I have lived back in Tempe. After college, I never really thought I could meet such a wonderful group of people who's friendship I would treasure so much. I only feel badly that in many ways I've come to this realization too late and there's not more time to reinforce these amazing friendships (many of which too I didn't have much opportunity to cultivate outside of work/gym, which I regret).

To all of you: I will miss you very much. Please keep me updated on your lives, loves, and families. And if you ever find yourself in Spain (or would like to find yourself in Spain), there is always a place for you to stay. Much love to all of you!

7 Days and Counting

I was reading the Lonely Planet guide to Andalusia (for those of you that are unfamiliar, Andalusia is the southern region of Spain where the CIEE program operates and where Cordoba resides). I thought, since my last posting was about the things I expect to miss while I'm gone, why not discuss those things I'm truly excited about? The Guide was only getting me more pumped up. So, in honor of my departure only being a week away,

The things I'm most excited for about living in Spain:

Being immersed in a Spanish-speaking country
This is also something I'm completely anxious about too, but the excitement definitely supersedes the anxiety. I've been "learning" Spanish off-and-on for the last 10 years and part of the reason I decided to do the CIEE program was so I could finally become fluent and make all those years worth something. I always knew becoming fluent would demand that necessary step of fully immersing myself in a Spanish-speaking country. Actually, the part that actually makes me the most anxious is the Castilian accent - I've grown up with and learned Latin American Spanish, so I somewhat feel like I'm stepping into a new language all together. Regardless, I'm excited!

Living with History
Growing up in Arizona, very little around me has been more than a few decades old. I'm excited to be walking on cobblestone streets and exploring centuries-old churches and passing through historical plazas that many generations have already explored.

Great food and wine
I doesn't get much better than dining on delicious tapas and regional wine with great friends and atmosphere. I haven't eaten pork in about 8 years but have resolved that once I'm in Spain, I'll so as the Spaniards do (which is to eat lots and lots of cured ham and sausage) and I'm super excited about this. Although I was kind of bummed I wasn't placed in Granada partly because of the free tapas with drinks (who wouldn't be excited at free food?! A great reason to want to be anywhere). There will be great fresh breads, creamy tangy cheeses, high-quality olive oil, roasted chestnuts on the streets, chocolate y churros for snacks. My mouth is watering!

Public Transportation and a Walking City
Neither Arizona or LA can pride themselves on being one of these, and I'm excited about being a short bus ride or walk away from work, the grocery, restaurants, friends. I expect my legs to get quite the workout!

Seasons!
Arizona has two seasons: hot and hell. I got a little more taste of the rumored four seasons in LA and even more in New Zealand. However, this will be the first time I will experience a full winter in a cold(er) place (aka, somewhere one actually has to wear layers and a jacket). Luckily, I've always had a fetish for coats and scarves despite living in the desert (call it wishful thinking) and I'm - mostly - prepared for the cool road ahead.

Meeting New People
Really, it's mostly why I do it. I love meeting people, especially when I travel (especially when I'm meting others that are also traveling). For some reason, these are the friendships I've valued the most. Although I'm not in close contact anymore with many of the people I met on my past journeys, I still hold them close in my heart and memories. I'm excited about adding to that collection!

If only my suitcase was bigger

Last night Mom and I were walking at Tempe Marketplace and it was such an unseasonably beautiful evening that it got me thinking about all the things I might miss in the near-year I'll be gone. So, as I near the month mark for my departure, I figure it's an appropriate time as any.

First of all, it goes without saying (but I'll say it anyway) that I'll miss people a lot. As much as I never thought that coming back after graduation to live with my folks (and my puppy) in Tempe, Arizona would be an enjoyable experience, it has been, and I will miss spending time with them immensely. I have also met incredible people in the past year that I will miss being close.

I will miss the gym. Wait - let me clarify. I don't plan on missing working at the gym. I will miss working out at the gym and the great team of people that work there. They are half of every bit of motivation I have for getting there (working or not) and they've been a great group of friends that I hope will stay in touch even after my departure. It will be hard to motivate myself to put on my running shoes and go at it alone. There's something about the energetic atmosphere of the gym that so intoxicating and keeps me going past the 15 minute mark.

I will miss TV. This sounds sad. I'm not an addict, so I don't plan on going through withdrawal, but it's something so casual and relaxing sometimes. Of course there will be TV in Spain, but it will be in Spanish, and somehow I just don't think drifting off to sleep to Sex and the City will have the same narcotic effects. It's only made worse because I won't be able to access my Netflix account overseas and thus won't even have my own private access to some sleep aids.

I will miss baseball. Thank goodness the months that I'll be gone fall mostly in the off season. But there's always fall league and spring training that will pass. Beautiful Arizona days spent watching baseball (even when your team's playing like a bunch of little-leaguers) feel just perfect sometimes. (And let me note that I am deeply grateful that I will be missing football season! )

I will miss Sunflower. I love roaming their bulk bins and drooling over the peanut-butter pretzels that I'll never bring myself to buy and stocking up on their beautiful produce and homemade, soft breads. I'm certainly not worried that the food won't be wonderful in Spain (in fact, I am quite excited about the food), but I definitely have my favorite food stuffs (um... I've fallen in love with almond milk) that I strongly doubt will have the same availability abroad (ref: almond milk).

I will miss Mojo. Yum. Although my calorie intake will probably win with this absence, I've grown rather fond of the frequent trips to Mill Avenue to check out their latest flavor selection and get an oversize cup of yummy frozen yogurt with chocolate sprinkles on top. For that matter, there are a lot of restaurants I'll miss (even though I might not get around to them much, just their presence is enough sometimes): Le Grande Orange (best pizza!), El Pollo Loco (love those little tacos!), and Green (delicious stir fry!). Although I must admit that most places I miss are in LA, and I've been craving them for months already (and I could probably pine after them a bit longer).

I will miss the library. I've used it more in the last 12 months than then last 20 years. Funny enough, it was only a couple months ago that I got my own library card (and now my own fines!). I love stopping in and roaming the shelves for all the newest reads. I've also built up a bit of my own library (only big by my own standards) with so many that I have yet to read to which I'll miss having access.

I will miss easy contact. I'll have a cell phone, but it'll only reach those locally. Functional as that is, I won't have contact with those I love dearly here in the States. Skype is amazing, and I have everything to be grateful for that global contact is as easy and as fast as it is. I'm bummed that my folks don't have a web camera (and buying one would be pointless with their silly computers), and that we'll have to coordinate talk-time (a big adjustment from this year when they are just physically moments away), and that Marina and I can't text each other at any moment (at least inexpensively). But as I said before, there is a lot to be grateful for and it's just the trite little things that will be hard at first.

And that's pretty much it with everything that I can think of at the moment. There will be lots of little things that I won't be able take with me that I'll miss just having (like my books, certain clothes, shoes - my shoes!! - movies, blankets) or being around, that all just makes it feel like home. But as I said before, it's all very small and trite. And I am very aware that once I get there, there will be so many amazing things around me that I know I won't miss anything for very long.

The first journey: The Spanish Consolate

This weekend I took two days off of work to drive to LA to apply for my Spanish visa.

Most people ask: "Wait, why'd you have to go to LA to apply?"

That's a great question. Other than their less-than-simple demand that one had to apply "in person" for your visa, I really have no clue why I had to make the journey. Although I'm not necessarily complaining. I love any reason to go to LA. My only complaint is that I wasn't able to make the trip any longer.

Prior to my appointment at the Consulate (which I made back in May), I had been freaking out that my papers from my program would not arrive in time. I was pleasantly surprised when they came in the mail the Tuesday before I left and I wasn't left making frantic phone calls back East about their absence.

So it was all up to me. I checked, rechecked, and checked again all the papers and copies and documents, and selling-of-my-soul material that I would need to give them. According to the Consulate, if my application wasn't fully complete at the time of my appointment, I would have to leave and make another one, and there simply wasn't time to make another appointment (on my end, or theirs).

After a much anticipated breakfast stop at Portos Bakery (see image: drool), Mom and I got to the Consulate nice and early (also in fear, as the Consulate stated if you were late for your appointment, you would again be turned away to make another appointment). It was just an office in a big office building on Wilshire (which we initially didn't find as I expected it to look more like the US Embassies I've always seen abroad), and there certainly weren't many people waiting as it would appear.

My appointment was at 10:00am, and each appointment was scheduled to last 10 minutes. Simply put, the Consulate hardly stuck to their schedule or their policies as stated on their website or threatening email they sent to confirm my appointment. An hour later I finally stood up and waited behind a man that was so disorganized this was his third time coming back into the office asking questions about his application. Originally they told us that they would be calling our names according to our appointments (and that there were still two people ahead of me in line). I eventually realized that they probably had no intention of calling my name. As the office filled and more people waited behind the windows and people with appointment times much later than mine were being helped (because they certainly weren't waiting for their name to be called), and as appointments with extremely disorganized and unprepared applicant were being accommodated (lasting what seemed like 20 or 30 minutes), I lost my patience (my mom had already left me at this point to meet up with a friend who had arranged to meet us close by, but came to us as my "appointment" was lasting much longer than the allotted 10 minutes).

I was more upset with the disorganized applicants who thought they could slide through without all the required documents or not reading the directions, or not filling out their entire application and waiting until their appointment to figure it all out. I was also upset with the Consulate for being as accommodating as they were (at least for as few workers that appeared to be helping). But I was at their mercy, and I didn't want to start hating on a country (or its systems) where I was about to spend 10 months of my life. As preparation, the program has told us that the Spanish are less inclined to work on the same time lines and schedules we are used to and often change things last minute. Our advice was simply: be patient. I learned from the Consulate that this is something I'm probably going to have to work on before I'm there (and might definitely be a challenge for me during my stay as well).

After over 2 hours, I was finally done, confirmation in hand to enjoy what little time I had left in LA before we left very early the next morning. It feels good to have it behind me.

At the very least, I left feeling grateful that I didn't fly in alone from Denver to apply, like the young girl sitting next to me had. Hopefully she got to Portos Bakery to make it all worth it.

In the beginning...

I've been telling myself for months that I would start a blog for my journeys in Spain, and I can't think of a better time to do it than now: Tomorrow I depart for Los Angeles to apply for my visa at the Consulate General of Spain.

My countdown clock says I have 63 days left until I officially start my adventure. For something that I've been anticipating for so long, 63 days almost doesn't seem like enough time anymore.

For those who might not know the backstory:

Last year, as I was trying to use whatever flying benefits I had left until they expired, I took a short trip to visit my first-year roommate, Vanessa Kelly, in Granada Spain. She was there teaching English for the school year, and I couldn't think of any better excuse to see a little bit of Europe than this opportunity.

I had such a fantastic time with her, her friends, and her assignment, that I returned home and decided that I would do whatever I can to do the same thing in the next year.

So here I am!

I did what I could to try and get placed in Granada (as I had truly fallen in love with that city and Vanessa and her friends were likely to be staying there the next year as well), but as luck would have it, I was placed in Cordoba instead. Complete disappointment was my first reaction, but as I learned a little bit (and then a little bit more!) about the city I really have become very excited about my placement.

As I said before, tomorrow I head off to LA to apply for my visa. It's definitely been a process (background checks, secretary of state signatures, doctor's letters, express envelops, money orders, and endless other demands), but one that came together a little more smoothly than I ever expected (always teaching me the value of NOT procrastinating!). And it certainly did not lack its moments of total panic either, but hopefully, those are all behind me now.

As far as I'm concerned, as of Friday afternoon, it's just tying up the loose ends and a waiting game.

Oh, and learning as much Spanish as I possibly can.