Graduation fun and Dancing all night

Groaning groggily and reaching blindly for my glasses, I sat up in bed and observed the clock; 14:12?!? How could I possibly have slept until just before lunch?! And then it all came back to me and, with a smile, I hopped out of bed. Well, dancing until 2:30 in the morning can do that to you, can’t it?!
But let me go back to the beginning: last night was the graduation ceremony for my class. Sadly, this ceremony does not include caps and gowns, but rather a ceremonial retrieval of the class photo by every senior, whether he or she is graduating or not. The one plus to all this: you get a sort of fashion show of all the dresses and suits! Of course, this can be extra interesting when you throw into the mix a rickety old set of metal stairs that bend under the weight of the lightest grad and don’t lend themselves too well to the abundance of stiletto heels in attendance and a light breeze that frequently caused the Marlilin Monroe effect on some of the poor, unsuspecting females. Oddly enough, most of the teens in attendance paid no attention to the ceremony –leaving that to their parents- and opting instead to chat with their friends at one end of the patio. This may seem disrespectful, but they just don’t seem to give as much importance to this event as we do in America. The ceremony was initiated by a few speeches –one from a teacher (“This is the last lecture you will receive from one of our teachers, but I promise you that I won’t quiz you on irregular English nouns! Instead, I would like to share a few words from John Lennon’s Imagine…”) and another from a student (“I know the teachers have been very patient with us, but we have been doubly patient with them!...”)- and brief musical numbers performed by the younger 7th – 10th grade students, including percussion, flutes, and voice, were interspersed here and there. The final number was, in fact, We Go Together, and made me nostalgic of our lovely good old days in Grease. The food tables opened up thereafter, and the hungry teens swooped down on the pizza with great zeal, fortunately leaving the Spanish omelet sandwiches all to me! They also had, of course, olives and cheese out, because it just isn’t a Spanish buffet without the olives!
Then came the social hour until a quarter to ten when we all took a bus, or hitched a ride with a professor as we smart students did, over to an Italian restaurant for dinner. There, we chatted, or rather shouted over the ruckus so as to be heard, and generally enjoyed ourselves for the hour or so before we ordered and ate. From the very beginning, pitchers of sangria (a fruity, lightly alcoholic beverage) and beer lined the tables, and were refilled every five minutes or so by busy waiters. (Remember, the legal drinking age in Spain is 18, so this was only illegal for a select few). A friend of mine was kind enough to ask a waiter to bring me water, and they kept the water coming all night long! My pesto pasta was delicious, and everybody else’s pizzas looked good too!
At midnight, teachers and all walked over to the club that was reserved especially for us, and we got checked off the list and stamped on the forearm. Inside, the music was loud, but usually had a good salsa beat that was fun to move to. There were a lot of us, and after a while they opened the club to the public, but it was never uncomfortably crowded. After getting over any embarrassment over dancing, since I haven’t ever danced at a club before, I fell in love all over again. I cannot express my passion for just moving my body and letting the rhythm move me. There was very little of that traditional partner dancing, which is better by far, but it was fun all the same and I got to meet some new people. Granted, by 2:00 in the morning the floor was fairly sticky due to the number of drinks that had been broken and spilt all over the place, but that didn’t really impede the dancing –nor the drinking. In the end, I had to leave before the place filled up as much as it probably did later in the night because my host dad kindly volunteered to pick me up and drive me home since the busses and the tram stop running long before the parties start. There is a night buss, but it doesn’t run out to where I live. The only thing I could think as we drove home, aside from how my feet were rather sore and eyes very droopy, was that I really want to go out dancing again. We’ll see if my wish comes true.

Well, that was Friday night and Saturday morning. Saturday afternoon included some hardcore lazing and an evening outing to Alicante to hang with another exchange student friend called Molly. We stopped by a little event on the street where booths from all sorts of volunteer and aid organizations distributed pamphlets and Moroccan goodies –such as cookies and tea- and sold T-shirts and books so that the proceeds could go towards eradicating poverty. Meanwhile, a little theatrical production went on for the kids and nearly drove Molly insane by the repetitive musical lyrics and, admittedly, not particularly trained voices. But, their jester outfits certainly captivated the attention of every child –and adult- on the street, and reminded me of a certain Garbeaus´ show and Hailee… :-) It is amazing the sheer amount of organizations that you can volunteer to here in Spain, and most of them work directly with the children in Africa or India. Molly told me about a friend of hers who appears materialistic and only into fashion and shopping who actually made a trip to Mexico to dig sewers in rural areas and now plans on going to India for do another service project there. Goes to show that you can’t judge a book by its cover, or a girl by her clothes. And all this reconfirmed a notion that has been making turns around my mind for the past few months: I think I need to go to Mexico, or another Latin American country, one of these upcoming summers to do a service project. After our stay at the booths, we, predictably, made our way to one of the many tea houses and sat down to chat until I had to make it back to the station to catch my last tram. Fortunately, unlike most other days, we did not get there late and miss it!

Sunday I went out climbing, but my climbing shoes have been forming holes in the toes, so I sent them off to be repaired this last week. I figured that if I wanted to do some serious climbing through Europe with my dad then I had better have some new rubber on those tips. However, the shoes did not make it back to me in time for this climbing trip, like I had thought they would, so I climbed barefoot. Now, this was ok for some of the routes, and only upped their difficulty a grade or two, and one heel hook move made me very proud, but other climbs were downright painful. Remind me to never climb barefoot on that kind of rock again, because some of it was like broken glass. Granted, I came away with minimal cuts, but I had to be practically hauled up the end of the last route because my feet were just too red and sad to do it anymore. If I climbed more regularly barefoot, then my feet would adapt and toughen up and I would probably climb better without shoes because my toes can curl better and my feet fit into smaller holes, but I’m just not willing to go through that kind of torture. All this brings back memories of that amazing pre-teen climber from Santa Cruz who did a double toe-hook on the ceiling in that open Women’s final at one Rocknasium competition a ways back. *sigh* Mad talent.

Well, skipping back to Thursday, I got a chance to do some volunteer work, like I´d been hopping. I spent the moring at the university with a couple other women manning a booth for the Association Against Cancer. It was fun because we traded people cigarettes for lollipops as a way to promote quitting smoking and promote awareness of different web sites and groups that can support you as you try to quit. There was none of that “This is what your lungs look like after 20 years of smoking. Death will befall you!” stuff. But we did have this cool little thing called a coxometer (or something to that effect) that measures the amount of carbon monoxide in your lungs and, essentially, how much negative influence smoking is having on your lungs. Some people got good news, and others got bad news. We gave the people with bad news extra lollipops.

Well, as always, thanks for tuning in to my wave length and checking up on the happenings of my life and mind. I always appreciate it and I relish your comments. Can’t wait to see you all again!

Love,

Jocelyn

PS Random Spanish fact: In Spain, you wear your wedding ring on your right hand.

Photos: Trip to Paris with wonderful people

Ok, from top to bottom: Half of our group in front of the Notre Dame. And, yes, I always look funny in pictures and, yes, I cracked up when I noticed that one of the other girls in the picture is laughing at me. :-) Next comes me enjoying my freshly backed French bread. Third down is the picture that best captures the essence of our trip: the click, click, flash of the cameras was constant and made you feel like a movie star! This is followed by our groups´ "thinking" shot, which I iniciated. We are all admiring the landscape thoughtfully... Note Will, to the right of me, with his excellent choice of facial expressions. And at the bottom, us with the Mexican guys. Martha, the other girl, raved about them for the rest of the trip, dwelling eternally on their hotness, etc. And yes, the cute one is a soccer player, and yes: we have his email.

Beautiful París

What is Paris? The city of romance? The capital of France? That one place where they have that cool tower? The international city? Or all of the above? My experiences fit into all of these categories and more.
I’m guessing the first thing that pops into your head is, “The city of romance? What hot French guy did Jocelyn run into this week?!?!” Well, to tell you the truth Caitlin, I did run into Pierre! However, he was a middle-aged college professor with an excellent English accent who helped us get around the city and in no way created a romantic atmosphere! The crepe man, on the other hand, was workin’ it! So, a few friends and I were in dire need of some crepes on our last night in Paris and, so, stopped at one of the many crepe stands to splurge. One of the other girls ordered first, and the first sign of our evening’s entertainment came when the man spreading out the batter for her crepe asked her if she would like extra chocolate. The next question, however, had us doubled over laughing. The seemingly sensitive crepe man looked at her in all seriousness and asked: “Have you ever had a French kiss?” She turned bright red, looked at the crepe she has just bitten into and says, “This is a really good crepe!” Him: “But have you?” Her (to me): “Isn’t this a really good crepe?” Him (in all exasperation): “You haven’t answered my question!” Her (to the only boy in the group, under her breath): “Will, will you pretend to be my boyfriend please?!” Meanwhile, the rest of us just gasped for air mid-laughter. :-D In the end, she gave him a kiss on the cheek goodbye and we made off with the best crepes ever!
Aside from its ever-romantic air, Paris is certainly diverse. It has a huge black population and many Asians, which contrasts notably with the comparably homogenous population of Spain. But the tourists also make for a diverse, interesting city. Friday night, Martha, Maurício, and I –two Americans and a Brazilian- find ourselves accompanying a group of Mexican guys around the city and comparing the Spanish and Mexican eating schedules, among other things. An hour later, I find an Indian family, strike up a conversation, and discover that I was just in their hometown of Bangalore this Christmas! The Korean artisan cut out my profile in paper, the French man served us dinner, and the rest of the exchange students from the Philippines, Australia, and America joined us shortly thereafter. Can you imagine the amazingly interesting conversation that springs from such a varied group?! Over dinner on the first night, we got to hear all about Veggymite –the Australian equivalent of our peanut butter which is immensely popular, eaten on bread, apparently made up of vitamins, and of an unappealing grey appearance! Needless to say, peanut butter sounded better to most of us compared to that unidentifiable grey substance. Note to self: taste Veggymite when in Australia.
So what did I do while I was in Paris? Well, I certainly walked a lot, so that might have worked off the calories from the crepes and French pastries, but I doubt it! I ate this delicious raspberry tart on the second day which was indescribable, but lets not get too far off topic here! We were talking about the walking. Walking and the metro made up our major means of transportation and got us everywhere from the Louvre, the Picasso museum, the Rodin museum, the Arco de Triunfo, the Notre Dame, and, of course, the Eiffle Tower. The highlights were, of course, the Louvre, Notre Dame, and Eiffle Tower, although I only went to the second platform of the tower and not the top. Incredibly enough, we spent less than two hours in the Louvre, which is a great treachery in my opinion. We saw the Venus de Milo and Monalisa as a group before we were set loose in that immense museum to more or less fend for ourselves. I had just enough time to seek out a favorite statue of mine called Eros and Psyche before I hit up the gift shop for a minute and met the group again. *sigh* I think I’ll need to go back for longer with my dad over the summer. The Notre Dame is most interesting from the outside and when admiring its splendid stained-glass windows. And just in case everyone is wondering, I have an affinity for Renoir and Van Gogh out of all the impressionist and post-impressionist painters. I´m not a huge fan of the painting from the Renaissance, but I love Michael Angelo´s sculptures –the most perfect being his David- and Tiziano uses some beautiful colors. How about you guys? Who do you prefer?
Our first introduction to the French people was our waiter on the first night. A loose, handsome man with flourishy mannerisms and aloof posture, an eruption of giggles sprung from our table of girls shortly after he walked away for the first time. When I get back, ask for my impression of him because it is beautiful. Everyone else was admiring his blonde hair, jaw line, or forearms, but I was just amused by the way he carelessly organized the straws in the used cups. When a friend pulled out a camera so that she could show some of us pictures, he even said, “Oh, you want a picture? I can pose nude!” I dunno; all these Paris guys certainly have their one-liners!
All in all, I really enjoyed spending time with the other exchange students and sharing our experiences. Some of them have not been as lucky as me and others seem to be even better off. For example, one girl feels isolated from her haughty classmates and has no one to go out with on the weekends. She feels that her entire opinion of the Spanish and their culture has been ruined by this experience. On the other hand, another guy went on a trip to Scotland with his family, has a great group of friends, and gets along well with his host brothers. The reasons why everybody decided to come to Spain was as equally varied as what they got out of their experience. Everyone comes to learn Spanish, but some come for a change of scenery while others come to escape bad situations at home. Others come to find themselves and still others just want to have fun or discover the culture. Most everyone loves travel, but that is the extent of our shared interests. Some like theater, others do sports. A couple girls realized their shared interest in Arabic whereas another few recounted experiences from their rock bands. You just can’t categorize exchange students. Ultimately, all of us end up being outgoing, but we don’t all start out that way. The need for survival quickly draws out a more forthcoming person in each of us. Everyone is friendly and no one went home without a new list of emails or myspace names. Yes, we do speak English among ourselves, but it was refreshing to whip out those classy vocabulary words after a few months of sitting there collecting dust on the back shelves of my mind. All of us were tripping over our English for the first few days, and I kept on saying Gracias to the French store clerks. Worse still, I almost used Merci on the panadería woman this morning! Oy ve!
At any rate, Paris is a beautiful city, just as everyone has told you before. The river bridged by ancient stone majesties, the avenues lined by lovely tall trees, and the French baroque style buildings standing strong in proud symmetry all blend into one astounding landscape peaked by far-off sky-scrapers and towers. It is one of the most beautiful cityscapes I have ever seen, second only to Granada with its alit Alhambra at night. Paris is reminiscent of Barcelona, but the people and the ambiance is very different; Barcelona is more relaxed. But compared to New York, Paris is as relaxed as peaches! New York certainly symbolizes the work, work, work mindset of Americans. The French have flair and fashion, the Spanish feel laid-back, and the Americans have their progress. Well, that and our reputation of being big in every respect –big buildings, big cars, big country, big everything! Paris is great and all, but Granada takes the prize in my opinion, and Barcelona, New York City, and San Francisco all stand out along side Paris. I guess I should also see Paris when there isn’t so much rain and cold weather.
At any rate, I could go on and on about the daily schedules, which included getting up way too early, getting back to the hotel rather late, sleeping very little, and playing the “hurry and wait” game since it is so difficult to travel with such a large group. Let me know what you want to hear more about and I´ll be sure to rant about it to the saturation point.

Well, much love and thanks for reading! You have no idea how much you increase my feelings of self worth by taking the time to catch up on my life!

Besos,

Jocelyn

Video: Good times in Barcelona

Well, since I´ve finally realized that I can post video clips, here is a little something from when I was in Barcelona in January. Yep, this is how cool we are! We exchange students make good use of our time and gain great cultural understanding by discovering new tire-swing things at a local park! Enjoy!

PS Thanks Brett!

Photos: Climbing in Sella and the English Presentation

I call this one Zebra Hands:


And this photo is from the english presentation (otherwise known as friendly chat) that I gave for an 8th grade English class:

Photos: Dinner with the other Exchange Students

We had a little exchange student get-together last Thursday. This included Madeline from Wisconsin, Molly from Colorado, a girl from Boston, a guy from Germany, Meika from Germany, and Daniel from Switzerland.This is the dessert that the girl from Boston made, otherwise know as the chocolate dish that is the love of my life! It will live on in infamy in my memories.
Us over dinner, including our coordinator, Rosa on the far left. Then comes Meika, Molly, Daniel in the back, me, the Boston girl, and the German kid. Madeline holds the camera.

Meika with the dessert she has brought: rice with milk.

Good times laughing over photos.

We had german sausages, hashbrowns from switzerland, Spanish seafood dishes, mashed potatoes and gravy (my contribution), salad, and so on... It was all delicious!

Cultural Nuances of France - Shared by an exchange student like me.

I love this! It is a little something written by another exchange student who is currently residing in France. Enjoy!

The Wonderful World of Bread
I would like to show you all the wonderful uses bread has here in France, but seeing as I am a day away by plane, I'll just have to explain!
Bread, first and foremost, is something to eat. They put tons of butter, jam and cheese on it whenever they please. Hungry? Here, have some bread.
Second of all, bread is a sponge. Not just for the plate, mind you, but for drippings on the table, on your napkin, and on your face. In fact, bread IS a napkin! Whenever you need to get more of anything, (for your bread, of course) you first wipe off your knife on your bread. The infamous bread is also a serving utensil. Whoever gets the end of a baguette in fact also receives a spoon, a bowl, a cup for yogurt, cheese, soup, meat... whatever you put in your mouth goes in your bread. Finally, and in my humble opinion, most impressively, bread is a meteorologist. No, there were no typos; I meant what I wrote. A meteorologist. Instead of watching the weather channel, my host family will smash their bread down on the table. If it stays down, it is going to rain. However, if the bread pops up again in its original shape, the weather will be clear and sunny! Amazing. And we've been paying someone to tell us this the whole time! Isn't that marvelous? While we in the states are competing to find the best and cheapest cleaning tools, utensils, napkins, and weather channels, the French already have one thing that is all encompassing: their bread.

You can see entries and pictures from other exchange students who are traveling through my study-abroad program at http://www.intraxstudyabroad.com/life-abroad/student-stories, including a segment of an entry from my own humble blog! Check it out!

Cross-Comparison of Two Exchange Student´s Experiences

A few weeks ago, an aquaintance of mine -another exchange student- sent me a lengthy email describing her experiences up in the north of Spain. I thought you might find a cross-comparison of our experiences interesting.

On Moday and Tuesday classes end at 5 something, Wednesday at 1:40 and Thur, Friday at 2:40. School starts at 8:15. I have three classes and then a half hour break. Kids go outside the school and the schoolyard. There is a lot of freedom. This break is called the media. Today I walked with friends to a sort of bar/cafe. People bought drinks and smoked. Many had small sandwhiches from home, which is breakfast for many, including me. No, I did not smoke, I went to Spain, I did´t have a brain transplant. Then we return for two classes. Then lunch at 1:30...Many play soccer and other things in the yard and many wonder off. Monday I walked with people to a supermarket. Then on Monday and Tuesday we return to class after a little more than an hour and a half I think. The other days I would go home to eat lunch. They said usually three of the four family members are there for that. It is the biggest meal of the day.
-My school works similarly. I am taking many classes and am given two breaks in between, but we call them "recreo" -or recess- not "medio." Yes, everyone smokes in my school. Well, seemingly everyone. Many people drink as well, but that is engrained into their culture from a young age. I myself have tasted some fine wines over lunch. And yes, lunch is the main attraction here!

Today in English the teacher had me explain about myself and why I am here. The concept of studying abroad. The system of studying is so different that they cannot figure out how I am going to graduate. They chose concentrations their Junior year. Then we asked eachother about each other´s cultures. I asked what Spaniards think of Americans and they laughed. The first thing one girl said was that they are fat. Another said politely that this may not be true, but they only care about themselves and do not learn other languages. I sorta defended us and said it is harder to learn. Look at me, I had to come all the way to Spain to learn another language. I also said that we have to take world history. I asked them what they do on the weekends and they said they go to Barcelona to go to eat, watch movies, shop, and try to get into clubs. The teachers mentioned exhibits. One boy called Sant Cugat ugly, but trust me, it is not.
-Her description of the system of schooling (choosing your concentration early) is the same nationwide. Her reaction to American stereotyping, however, is different than mine. I know that the American schooling system is very egocentric; we focus time and again on ourselves. Yes, we have world history for one year, but how much do we really know about the rest of the world? Americans are notoriously bad at geography (compared to Europeans) and the only parts of world history that we truly know are those concerning the world wars. As for being fat, that is obviously a generalization, but look at our obesity epidemic. Those students in Barcelona have well founded premonitions in my opinion. As for the pastimes of those students, that sounds about right. Of course, its warmer here, so much of the going-ons here have to do with the beach!

There are few schools that do more than one kind of dance. They all specailize. There is also a Flamenco school in Sant Cugat. What I anticipate is two or three ballet classes at a school other than the coco comin, latin dance with Monica, and maybe trying out a Flamenco.I really think I need to keep myself busy or I will miss home. I have not had homework all week. I could join a chorus, but I am starting to apreciate my Falmouth high school with all the activities built in. Everything here is an epic to find.
-Yes, school in Spain is purely school. They don´t provide sports or theater or any other extras. I, however, am used to seeking my own extracurriculars, having done independent study for the last few years. None the less, everything is, as she says, "an epic to find!" Keeping busy is incredibly important. It is the surest way of maintaining sanity in a world that doesn´t understand you.

Ok, here are some different cultural things. I have already explained the eating schedule. They go to bed between eleven and twelve. Sometimes people go out, for example to dance class after their very late dinner. They eat more meat, not bigger portions, but mixed into dishes, or various kinds, at almost any time of the day. The light switches and toilet flushing thingys are different. You can move the showerhead around like a hose. There is a animal leg with a hoof sitting on the counter downstairs. That is not good for my vegetarian instincts. That way they know it is fresh. They eat a lot baguette bread and always fruit after dinner. I really miss salad. They often cook a part of the meal during a meal so that everything is hot. I really miss salad. The wotk schedule is weird. They often get home at eight and would prefer the American work schedule. They really know there American movies. Here there is a lot of Catalán pride. They learn the two languages at the same time. Many want to be separated from Spain. Many prefer Catalán. In my house they speak Spanish. Montse said she speaks Catalán with her daughters but I have not heard it. I already feel my Spanish improving. I can understand Catalán a little but I doubt that I will ever speak that language. One girl said where there is money there is Catalán.
-The animal leg with the hoof on the counter to which she refers is very usual in Spain. It is a hung of dried meat that they whittle away at meal after meal. It is intimidating, but at least you know where your food comes from. My host family does not actually have one, but most of our neighbors do. As for the languages, here in Alicante, everyone learns Castellano and Valenciano, which is the regional language. Many of the northern provinces want to be separate from Spain, but it appears that most of the south is content as is.

I am definitely clinging to normalcy. I really bonded with the other exchange students. When it was time to leave my temporary host family I wanted to stay with them. Even though I am all the way across the world I am still wondering a little about my SAT´s and anticipating the new Harry Potter
-I am the opposite. I have distanced myself from other exchange students as much as possible, attempting to immerse myself in my new environment. I do have to admit, however, that I have a few bits of home here (ie. my bumperstickers with inspirational phrases, which are in English, a few photos, etcetera). Many of the other exchange students are looking into taking SATs while here in Spain. Let me tell you, I am so happy that I am not one of them!

I think this is a lesson in expectations. I don´t think I am settling for less, just something a little different. I have to remember that a big part of the reason I am here is for the cultural experience.
-True that! This is so important! The best way to prepare yourself for an exchange is to learn as much about the country as you can and then throw it all away. Walk into the country without expectations and you will not be disapointed. But walk in with all sorts of ideas about how the people act, live, and think, and you´ll only have to erase it all to make way for the truth. An important phrase that they give us in our student handbook is "Different is not bad. It´s just different!" That is something that I always try to keep in mind.

Now that I can speak much more people are more keen to chat. Listening to Catalan is sorta like a lesson in picking up a language without studying, which I have never done, even if I am not trying to speak it.
-Throw your mind into new situations and miracles occur. You start absorbing things at a rate that you once thought impossible. This brings me back to a very important Seussical phrase: "Anything´s possible!"

So I have accepted that I am staying at my school. By the time I transfered if I ever found a school, it would be June. Spainards work on a different clock. The more I accept differences the happier I am. Things are going great. Catalan is a nice break to relax because people never expect me to understand it. I just took my first break and watched a movie in English. If I were hearing Spanish all day long I might go nuts.
-All of this is true. Spaniards work on a clock that goes more slowly than the American clock. They know that everything comes in time and that if you try to rush it, you only make time run out faster! Just as Catalan is her break, Valenciano is mine. I sleep during that class...or study, or draw, or center myself...you get the idea! I differ from her in that I know more Spanish so I could listen to Spanish all day and still be sane. The problem is that I have so much to share with you guys that I keep coming back to English time and again.