If asked to define the past few days, I would have to call it a beach marathon. Yes, I am now an expert lazer, sunbather, ocean-swimmer, beach-ball-thrower, and all around beach bum. And proud of it! Of course, I didn’t do it alone! I was aided by the masterful skill of a great collection of friends. And to be perfectly frank, these hang-out, good-bye dates decided my fate as a sand-dweller. Wednesday with Alex was delicious –the trip to the Chocolatería afterward contributes to this descriptor! Alex is another exchange student like myself who made a trip over here to enjoy the beach with me and talk of our experiences. I think we were out there for a good five hours! You should have seen her eternal grin in those shallows; now there’s a true beach-lover. Thursday found Alberto and I at the beach, accompanied after a time by his younger siblings who served as excellent entertainment with their constant struggle over the floaty play-thing. That was the day when we made the trip out to the line of buoys that mark the furthest out you are allowed to go. Today, Friday, I said goodbye to Xaro, Teresa, and Jorge at the beach. Xaro and Teresa are my best girlfriends here. I will miss them. Good thing I have you guys to return to! Jorge brought a boogey-board and Xaro her beach ball. :-) Good times! Especially trying to get three of use standing on top of the boogey-board all at the same time amongst the waves. *sigh* I may never see any of them again. But Teresa assures me that one of these summers she’s going to pop up at my door in Cali and I just won’t we able to get rid of her until school starts. I told her I wouldn’t mind that.
Aside from floating on the aquamarine undulations and burrowing my playful toes in the sand, I have done little this week. I bought the next set of text booklets from my Spanish class so that I can continue to study them when I get back. I’ve set aside my Spanish reading for the time –I figure four books during four months is good enough on the Spanish front- and have delved back into a Hemmingway book about the Spanish civil war. (I appreciate having studied this topic in my history class.) I baked cookies with my younger host sister, Saioa, but they came out suspiciously liquidy, even after adding extra flour and sugar. Hmmm…I blame the new type of butter we used. It jeered at me when I put the milk back in the fridge. *glares at the memory of said guilty butter* But they still tasted good; grandpa said so.
Any time now I will start packing, because dad comes on Sunday. On Saturday I will madrugar –get up early- to go to yoga again before heading off to the mountain for climbing. In the evening we will celebrate Grandma’s birthday over dinner and then dad will be here by lunch the next day and a gift exchange. For the next few days after that, we will take up temporary residence in Ignacio’s house, see the city, and climb. Then we head up to Tarragona for a few days, fly up to Switzerland, and then it’s over to England for five days of show filled, sightseeing glory. We’ll be back for the 4th of July fireworks. So, this is one of my last posts before my Europe traveling adventures.
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I was just watching my host sister bustle around to gather her things to head out with her friends tonight and maybe it was due in part to the slower Queen song playing on my ipod, but I felt a swelling of sadness inside me; a bitter-sweetness. I’m going to miss her. When she found me crying one night in our room, she listened to what I had to say, told me about similar experiences of her own, and made me laugh. And other days when I just needed a good healthy cry and some time alone, she didn’t make a deal of it or invade my space. She is always making jokes and goofing around. She makes for excellent conversation and helped me learn my Spanish vocab list. We’ve shared a couple side-splitting late-night conversations and the meticulous cleaning of a couple cookie-dough bowls –with our fingers, of course! She is, truly, like a sister to me. La quiero.
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So, what parts of Spanish culture are going to influence my life in the US? Well, I am now going to take shorter showers in order to waste less water and be more frugal with my use of electricity in the house. I’ll probably keep eating yogurt and fruit for dessert, but I will miss the chocolate shops here. I hope to keep taking yoga classes and centering myself every week. I have more awareness of my personal needs now and the ways to treat myself well. I have greater perspective and know how to keep a healthy mindset. I have learned to relax better, which I hope I can still remember next year around midterms! I have, of course, come a long way in speaking, reading, and writing Spanish. I want to keep it up and practice it when I can. These past months have made me more tolerant of cigarette smoke –for better or worse- and made me not to quick to judge someone who parties, smokes, or drinks. I am more confident of my will and my values, but my spiritual beliefs are more hazy than ever. But I think that’s something that comes with my age also. I am tanner than before and my hair is a brighter red. I have a greater appreciation of my friends and family and know much more about Velazquez and Garcia Lorca than ever. I am buoyed by my new-found ability to pass almost all my classes in Spanish with the equivalent of a B. I have realized how important it is to have certain Jack Johnson CDs on my ipod, because I somehow managed to miss putting them on here before I left and have been missing them and craving them for the past four months. I have fallen in love once again with simple sunrises, clear oceans, rugged mountains, blue sky, dappled shade, and the twitter of birds. I have confirmed the impossibility of categorizing me or boxing me into one definition. I have realized how easy it is to spend money quickly, even when you contain yourself to necessities, gifts, and the occasional tea or dinner. The miracle of digital cameras and internet has set in and the importance of the Spanish dictionary is clear to me. Language is inexact and meaning is relative. Misunderstandings are easily made and love is the most important gift. Communication is imperative to the attainment of peace and generosity of time and efforts is something that each of us owe the world for the gift of comfort it has given us in our nice houses and cushy beds. We are citizens of humanity and being American or Spanish means nothing. I wish everyone would stop judging their neighbors by appearances or mannerisms.
Well, that´s about it for now.
Much love!
Besos,
Jocelyn
PS Alberto, you had better leave a comment this time or I will disown you as one of my best Spanish friends. So there! (Me disfruté de hablar contigo este tarde en la playa. Adios.)
Showing posts with label customs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label customs. Show all posts
Friday, June 15, 2007
Monday, June 11, 2007
Teaching How To Make Cookies and Homelife
Today I taught my host sister Janire how to make oatmeal chocolate chip cookies. Although she has little experience in good, thorough stirring and beating -and aside from her need for practice in the art of scraping cookies off the sheet with a spatula- they came out great! We had fun whipping out the hammer again and breaking the chocolate bar to pieces (I mentioned that she might take to baking this sort of cookie when she is in need of a little stress release!). And thus, after a day of baking, my mind is on food.
My host mom prepares two meals a day for us: lunch and dinner. Lunchtime is an hour that I hold in high regard, and rightly so. The usual heavy, lunch dishes are lentils or garbanzo beans, each served in soup/stew form with mild, green peppers, carrots –always extra for me-, and meat (steak is frequent and chorizo –a sort of chunk of pepperoni- is a must). Other usuals are the Spanish omelet, Spanish rice (garlic flavored rice served with tomato sauce and a fried egg), fish of every sort, puree of vegetables, and fillet of steak or pork. Many of these are also served for dinner, but practically never the garbanzo beans or lentils since they are considered too strong for right before bed. As a first dish, a salad of lettuce, tuna, tomato, olives, pickled leeks, canned corn, oil, vinegar, and salt is common and french-fries are served with almost every meal. We’ve also dinned on hamburgers that are more like a hamburger and BLT all in one from time to time and French omelets (which are like our regular omelets). Frozen pizza and breaded and fried rolls of ham and cheese are also part of our diet. My favorite dishes are the garbanzo beans, Spanish omelet, Spanish rice, puree of vegetables, and salads. Desert is always yogurt or fruit (apple, melon, pear, banana, cherries, strawberries…) with an occasional ice-cream thrown in.
Aside from cooking for us, my host mom also does the laundry (put the clothes in the washing machine, hang them on the clothes line, take them down, iron, fold, and distribute to the appropriate rooms) and cleans the house (sweeping, mopping, scrubbing, wiping down…). She would like to work (perhaps as a hostess at a hotel or in retail) but since they are relatively new to the area, she has not found an opportunity. So, she spends her time on the computer communicating with her friends back home in the North of Spain in Bilbao. My host dad works in the Civil Guard, which means he does hard work and suffers a lot of tragedies. In his off time, he goes running, bicycling, plays Paddle, fixes little electronic things, helps his daughters with homework, and does odd jobs around the house. He helps my host mom with dishes and does the weekly shopping trip with her. He is also the only one with a working driver’s license, so he takes people places if they aren’t using the usual methods of transportation –walking, bus, or tram. Since we only go shopping once a week but eat bread with every meal, we keep loaves of bread in the freezer to make them keep through the week and place them out over the clothes line or in front of the portable heater to thaw a few hours before we expect to eat them. We also use scissors to cut our spaghetti to pieces, but I am assured that this is not normal. Janire, my 15-year-old host sister, is not old enough to go clubbing like all of my friends. She prefers shopping, hanging out around the city, and going to the beach to tan, bathe, play volleyball, or chat with friends –but above all to tan. She’ll also go to an occasional movie, but usually opts for TV shows or the movies that are shown on a variety of channels. We watch Los Simpsons over lunch most every day, unless there is a soccer game, which is first priority, or car races, which are second. Over dinner, we watch Cámara Café (Coffee Camera) which is an imitation of a French show where they use one fixed camera set up where the coffee machine would be in an office and every show is made up of witty scenarios that could or could not take place in a similar situation. It is very funny, but I didn’t start getting the jokes until after a few months. We also watch the news during many meals. As you might guess, this is not conducive to lengthy discussions, but we do chat.
Well, ttfn! Ta-ta for now!
Love,
Jocelyn
Monday, June 4, 2007
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.
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.
Wednesday, May 9, 2007
Climbing competition, Voice-overs, and Degrees Celsius
Guess what! I placed first in my category in the Spanish Cup climbing competition this Sunday. The only drawback? I was the only competitor in my category! Regardless of the lack of competition, they awarded me the lovely first-place trophy which I am seriously considering using as a vase. (I can imagine those lovely irises complementing the tonalities of the undulating glass nicely!) Nah, but really, I would have come in tied for fourth behind a few girls in the under 18 category. The competitions here are very different from those I have experienced at our rocknasium. There is no evening of climbing routes, collecting points, and, at the end, turning in your points sheet to see if you’ve made it to the finals. No, in these competitions you stay in the enclosed climbers’ area until they let you out to inspect your route for a few minutes and then, one by one, each climber has a go at it. The eight climbers who get the highest go on to the finals. Of course, you don’t get to see anyone else do the route before you since you stay in the climbers’ area, and you don’t climb more than two routes for the whole competition, unless there is a tie-breaker. I climbed the same routes as the younger girls’ age category and most everyone finished the first one because it was fairly easy. On the second one, I fell sooner than I should have, but it was a nice route. I was the first one to climb the first route, which means that I got to see everybody climb that one, but I was the last one to climb on the second route, so I didn’t get to see anybody else climb it. The other climbers come from all over the country, including a group from the Canary Islands, and they are usually the same group of teens and kids at all the competitions. The indoor climbing scene is not so big here as it is in America; the gyms are small and scarce and the competitions are relatively small. I don’t mean to say that people don’t climb here; they do. But if they’re going to climb they’re going to do it outdoors. At any rate, the competition was fun (even though I only climbed for all of ten minutes collectively), but I opt for a day out on the mountain over a competition any day.
Speaking of days out on the mountain, you might have already guessed from the afore posted pictures that I went out climbing on Tuesday (it was Labor Day so there was no work or school). T’was a good day, albeit windy. I had to back down half way through one route when the wind got so chilly that I just couldn’t work its delicate moves with my stiffening back and neck. (I later found out that it was, in fact, a whopping 7b!) It was so good to be out climbing again. Lately, I’ve found that climbing is my greatest relief from the stresses of the week. Like last night after a long day at school, I went to the gym and forgot all else as I made up problems and just appreciated the release of adrenaline. It didn’t hurt that my little invented sequences became the problems of the evening! Funny enough, aside from me, the only other climber who finished my crimpy, overhanging problem was also the only other woman climbing that evening! Good times! The guys felt that we had stripped them of their manliness! We just snickered and started working on new problems. :-D
Another happening of the week included an outing on Saturday to see the movie Premonition in theaters with my friend Alberto. We had intended to see Spiderman III, but we got there late. Its never quite the same watching a movie when the voices you know are replaced by other voices that can’t possibly live up to the vocal interpretation of the originals. The only Spanish voice-over man that has ever impressed me is Robin Williams’. That guy is good! And yes, there is one person who does all of Robin Williams’ voice-overs, and the same with all the other famous movie-stars. Well, minus Antonio Banderez who does his own voice-overs!
Well, the weather has finally gotten over its rainy trend and has bounded to the other extreme with burning heat. They say it will only last this week before dipping down again. In case you didn’t already know, they use degrees Celsius here. They also use kilometers instead of miles, kilograms instead of pounds, and military time instead of am and pm. All of this drove me crazy for the first months, but I’m getting used to it now. I still start when I notice the speedometer in the car every-so-often (We’re going 120mph in the city?!?! Oh, yeah, kilometers. Riiiight!) and I always take a second longer to do the math and figure out that when the clock reads 18’23, it really means 6:23pm, but at least I know that 18 degrees Celsius calls for a sweater and 25 means that I need to whip out the shorts.
At any rate, I hope that life has you feeling good!
Much love,
Jocelyn
Monday, April 30, 2007
Birthday presents and a new spanish princess, among other things!
What a beautiful birthday celebration. Some of the most important people in my life in Spain surrounded me today, and over chocolate cake and champagne they all became acquainted. Ignacio, Amelia, Juan Agustine, Rosa, Madelin, Piri, Amachu, and Janire. These are the people who have given me the most during my stay here –a place to climb, friendly advice, support and rejuvenation, an open ear, a roof over my head, and food! And today! Oh, today Ignacio and his parents gave me the most amazing material present! They gave me a climbing backpack!!! It includes the rope bag and everything and, let me tell you, I hugged them all ecstatically before storing it in my room, where I silently leapt and whooped for joy! Madelin gave me a Frisbee from her home state, Wisconsin, among other things. All the gifts I received from everyone were so thoughtful and meaningful. What luck I have to be surrounded by loving and giving people wherever I go. Even when find myself in an emotional state where I tear up most anytime anyone mentions the word “home” or “boyfriend,” there are people who give me something to smile at.
I would like to mention the freedom that words give; I share more through this blog than I usually do with my friends back home. Feel privileged as the audience of my usually cloaked mind.
So where shall I begin today?! Should I start with the adventures of the climbing gym? Or should hop on along to talk about how I feel like I have a good set of hang-out friends at school? Or maybe I should mention that I GOT A PASSING GRADE ON MY ART HISTORY TEST!!! (a 6 out of 10!) Yes, this grade is based on the same standards as my peers, and yes, this means that I have the ability to pass a class in Spanish and upon entering it half way through! *suavely brushes invisible dust off of chest* Thank you, thank you very much! But how about those friends? Well, I went browsing through hippy shops with one girl-friend on Friday and plan on going to the beach with her and another this next Wednesday (and we’ll be bringing a volleyball!). Granted, life isn’t all peaches and cream, but who needs too much cream when you’ve got fun people to hang out with!
And then there’s the climbing gym. Well, we could call Tuesday “The Americas Night” at the gym, cause Chili, Brazil, and the US were all in attendance! I, of course, was the outstanding representative from the US, with two other young men climbing from their respective countries. (Ironically, the man from Chili goes by the name of Argentina!) It was the best gym night in a while since I finally had people who climbed closer to my level and we were able to work stuff together.
Earlier that same day, I took an hour out of one of my art classes to go and talk with an eighth grade English class. In case you’re wondering, the girls think Brad Pitt is hot, and at least one of the guys has an affinity for Julia Roberts! We talk about the important things, of course! Nah, they prepared questions for me about my life (like what sports do I like, do I have siblings, where do I live, what is my favorite Spanish food, etc.) I shared photos, asked them about their general interests, and did all…of…this…speaking…veeery…slowwly. Have you ever tried to cut down your rate of speech to half speed? It is very taxing! But besides the jaw workout, the entire experience was very fun. And you wanna know what? I never would have known they were 8th graders by their behavior! I love how there are interesting people in every age category. I grieve for the person who is “above” talking to kids or younger teens, or the teen who looks at an 80-year-old man and only sees “some old person” instead of a wealth of knowledge and experience that can be tapped into with only a few kind words and open ears.
Well, a few Spanish nuances/facts for you to relish:
1. The Spanish greeting is a kiss on each cheek, starting with right cheeks together. (This takes the place of hand shakes. I really like this different way of greeting people because it immediately breaks the personal bubble and contributes to a more physically intimate society.)
2. Hardly anyone has a dryer. They go for the good-old-fashioned clothes lines. Unfortunately, this seems to call for a lot of ironing afterwards to counter the lovely creases that form.)
3. Due to Muslim architectural influences, most every house and apartment has an indoor “patio.” (Although, ours looks more like one more room rather than a patio. Originally, it was organized so that many families could live together with a common garden/washing area open to the air in the middle of everything.)
4. The Mediterranean diet it dying and being replaced by the convenient, fast diet that is quickly overtaking the modern world. I blame us. *shakes fist at that dead guy who invented the fast-food restaurant*
5. Princess Sophia was just born today and all the Spanish news stations are broadcasting the king´s comments while all of the comedy shows revolving their shows around baby jokes, etc.
6. Now is the time of the elections, but I´m not paying attention because there are too many political parties to keep track of, and it´s all a show anyways. Many of the soccer stars seem to have more influence than these politicians!
Lots of love!
Hugs,
Jocelyn
(Note: I wrote this on Sunday but our internet was down so I couldn´t post it until today. Just so you know!)
Friday, April 20, 2007
Bull-fighting: Pros and Cons
The Spanish bull-fighter was once a well respected figure, renowned for his bravery and admired by the ladies for his flair and good looks. His honored role in Spanish culture has diminished significantly in the past decades as the Spanish people change opinion and begin to see bullfighting in a new light.
But what is bull-fighting? Well, the main attraction is the classically clad bull-fighter (or matadór, or torero) whisking about his red cape to provoke the bull and have it charge at the red fabric only to find that the torero has moved aside, unharmed. But the torero is always in danger, risking a gory end with those two sharpened horns charging at him time and again. This is the beauty of the fight: man controls nature by overcoming his fear of death. Ultimately, the matadór stabs his long blade directly in between the shoulder blades of the bull thereby killing it –or the bull comes out on top and the torero goes home with less blood and a lot of disgrace.
Myself, I am vehemently opposed to bull-fighting, but I believe that it is very important to understand the logic behind the opposite opinion. So, what is the argument in support of bull-fighting? First of all, it is an important part of Spanish history and a tradition that has survived the centuries and should thus be respected. Second, this tradition gives honor to the bull, showing its strength and giving it a glorious death. The meat of the respected animal is then given to the poor, and all of its remains are used in some way so that nothing goes to waste. Additionally, the entire spectacle serves as entertainment for the masses who always need to have some fun so that they can decompress after the stresses of daily life. Oh, and we can’t forget the revenues that come pouring into the Spanish economy from enthusiastic tourists!
All right, so now we can see bull-fighting in a positive light, but what’s the other side of the story? The opposition view bull-fighting not as a glorious death but as inhumane torture. Before the torero even comes into the picture, rounds of other men have already weakened the bull through various means, including by stabbing rods into his back (usually toped with decorative ribbons) that impede the bulls movement…painfully. The bull is already exhausted by endless running, so this is definitely not a fair match between man and animal.
So there you have it. Is bull-fighting a glorious tradition or animal abuse? A fair amount of Spaniards today opt for the second opinion and are taking steps toward the eventual end of this bloody spectacle, and one province has recently named bull-fighting illegal. However, Spain is decidedly split on this issue, with most of the support coming from the South of Spain and Madrid, the capital. This tradition is not so engrained in the culture of the North so the people there let it go more readily. Most Americans will voice their opinon against bull-fighting (at least in my experience this has proven to be true) but we need to keep this in mind: our own treatment of the animals we eat is not ideal. The bulls that are later sent to the fights live a long life free-range with an excellent diet and every comfort an animal could want. Our own cows live in indecently sized pens that hardly allow movement and with a diet that leaves much to want. Yes, we don’t give the animal a torturous death, but we don’t give it a comfortable life either. Just as the Spaniards are working to improve their treatment of animals, we would do well to better our own treatment. Something to mull over as you eat your steak tonight!
Thursday, April 19, 2007
My friend Pol, and spanish nightlife -or the very little I know of it!
Pol:
With krinkly, smiley eyes and a friendly demeanor, Pol is one of those authentic characters who lives in a world unlike any that you have experienced. From the eighteenth story of our seaside apartment complex, he has a splendid view of the mountains, sea, and city, including what he calls his “two elements:” sunshine and water. Every morning, Paul rises with the dawn to enjoy his half-liter cup of café accompanied by homemade brown bread -complete with nuts, dried fruits, garlic, and pumpkin seeds integrated in it-, and topped with a mixture of balsamic vinegar, olive oil, and, again, his beloved garlic! He then whips out his hiking shoes and walks some30 miles –even though his age more than doubles that! His house is full of crustacean fossils, cristals, fossilized shells, and interesting rocks –proof of his many expeditions along the coast and through the mountains. He speaks his Spanish with a lilting cadence that you might associate with an Italian pizza-maker (Ayy, Bam-bii-no!). His accent is due to his early life in Galicia Germany
QUESTION FROM A FRIEND: "What do you think of the night life? I’ve heard that the dinner hours are very late and everyone hits the tapas bars until midnight/1:00 a.m.ish. It seems like most of the kids that I’ve talked with that have been there/done that really like this lifestyle!"
MY THOUGHTS:
With krinkly, smiley eyes and a friendly demeanor, Pol is one of those authentic characters who lives in a world unlike any that you have experienced. From the eighteenth story of our seaside apartment complex, he has a splendid view of the mountains, sea, and city, including what he calls his “two elements:” sunshine and water. Every morning, Paul rises with the dawn to enjoy his half-liter cup of café accompanied by homemade brown bread -complete with nuts, dried fruits, garlic, and pumpkin seeds integrated in it-, and topped with a mixture of balsamic vinegar, olive oil, and, again, his beloved garlic! He then whips out his hiking shoes and walks some
QUESTION FROM A FRIEND: "What do you think of the night life? I’ve heard that the dinner hours are very late and everyone hits the tapas bars until midnight/1:00 a.m.ish. It seems like most of the kids that I’ve talked with that have been there/done that really like this lifestyle!"
MY THOUGHTS:
I am not an active participant in the night life, quite frankly, but I know something about it. 1:00amish is an understatement. Usually, the youth don´t get back earlier than 3:00am on the weekend, and a lot of them stay out until 7:00am before returning to sleep until lunch at 3:00pm. Yes, everything happens later here due to the workschedule that is split into halves: before lunch (8-2:30ish) and after lunch (4ish-8:00pm). Since everyone gets home later, they don´t eat unitl 9:30 at earliest, and many dine even later. You´d think that this would be compensated for by a later wake-up hour, but no; the Spanish do not lay as much value in sleep as other cultures do, so they tend to sleep less. Spanish culture places more enphasis on having fun, relaxing, and just living, contributing to this "late nights" cultural trend. The tapas bars are a good indicator of how everything is Spain takes place outside of the house. Everyone has social hour in the frequent bars, on the beach, in the plazas, and most anywhere that isn´t inside an apartment or the rare house. The youth even drink on the streets -called botellon-, which has led to a recent call to change due to the misuse of public space. (On a side note, Spain has a a big drinking problem amonst the youth that probably results from the wide acceptance of drinking among adults, returning us to the ever-popular bars.) I can see why the other young people you know would like this life-style because it is the ultimate partier´s paradise, and I myself have been a night owl most of my life (thanks to my flexible independent sutdy schedule which has allowed me to sleep-in most week days) but I don´t stay out late here because, during the week, I have to get up for school, and on the weekend, I rise with the sun to head out to the mountains for a good day´s climbing. This schedule doesn´t really lend itself to late nights partying or dancing. Plus, I don´t drink, and watching my friends get drunk gets old fast.
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Saturday, April 7, 2007
Why are the Spanish more relaxed?
Why are the Spanish more relaxed? A deceivingly simple question with complex connotations!
After Rachel raised this question over Spanish relaxation, I sat down and thought to myself, "Huh! Why are the Spanish more relaxled?!" After pondering this for a while and dallying over the begining of this blog entry, I said to myself, "What are you doing, Jocelyn? You are puzzling over this cultural question, going around in circles in your own mind without bothering to ask the people around you who are living it!" I immediately got up out of the swivelly chair and asked my host mom: Had she heard about the Spanish reputation of being more relaxed? She had, and she attributed it to the country´s siesta and fiesta-the renouned Spanish partying and napping. The Spanish admit to their love of partying openly -just ask my buddies at school- and although the siesta is not so used in today´s society, this deeply rooted traditional mid-day nap says something about Spanish history.
Juan Augustine, doctor and father of my rockclimbing friend, agrees with this reputation but notes that it is over-generalized. He imparted an interesting common phrase that reflects the Spanish disregard of tardiness: "Si vengas tarde, no pasa nada. Y si pasa, ¡saludalo!" The pun is lost in the translation, but in English it would go something like this: "If you arrive late, nothing comes to pass (ie. no problem). And if it does come to pass, greet it!" Think about our tightly-wound culture where on time is late and five minutes late is impossible. On the other hand, the Spanish don´t even tend to set predetermined times for meeting, opting for the "Anytime within that hour will do" approach. Time is something different here: less regimented and more flexible.
Maru, my "adoptive aunt" who is housing me this weekend in Malaga, attributes this relaxed lifestyle in part to the medditeranean climate, as did many of the other Spaniards I inquired. With a warm climate, the people can afford to go out in the streets, stay out late nights, and laze in the sun, whereas people in colder climates find it more difficult to travel comfortably and are restricted to house parties and other indoor activities if they don´t want to freeze their tushies or drown in the rain. But only part of Spain maintains this paradise-like climate; the north certainly has a different feel, say my confidantes. And they should know, since my entire host family comes from the El Pais Vasco near the border of France and Juan Augustine was raised in Galicia above Portugal. So they do have a bit of perspective in this department.
Juan Augustine had a few other interesting ideas on the causes of the relaxed Spanish lifestyle. Consider how Spain has been a Catholic country for the majority of the last 2000 years whereas England, France, Germany, and America are rooted more closely within the Protestant branch of Christianity. While Protestantism (pardon any spelling errors) puts emphasis on work ethic and calculable progress, Catholisism focuses more on just living. Maybe these different religious influences contribute to our different mindsets.
What do I think of all this? Well, I cannot deny that the Spanish appear more relaxed as a people. Yes, my own freedom from responsibility and the resulting relaxed state of being that I have here greatly influences my perception of the people around me -I tend to notice the people who are on my same wavelength- but I have deffinitely noticed the concrete signs of a culture more relaxed than our own (or at least different): the people sleep less and opt instead for socializing in the frequent bars and plazas, clocks are often disregarded, and "¡Tranquilla!" or "Be tranquil!" is often heard in common conversation. Additionally, the laws here are more flexible than ours in America. There is no death penalty, no one stays in jail for more than 30 years, and those who do go to jail usually get out early on good behavior. I believe that Spain´s climate and Catholic roots partially account for the relaxed mindset of the people here in the South and East. Beyond those concrete causes, I can surmise little more. The people here know that what isn´t done today can be done tomorrow and they live for good food, excellent wine, and a good time. They know that in today´s world studying is essential to future success and that work puts food on the table, but they balance this with an emphasis on family unity and living life to its fullest. There are people who don´t fill this description, who are uptight, stressed, or devoted fully to hard work, but they seem few and far between. I cannot pinpoint every cause of the relaxed Spanish mindset, but I admire their ability to see life as one fluid experience that should be enjoyed instead of a series of obstacles to be overcome. I hope I can incorporate some of this into my own life.
After Rachel raised this question over Spanish relaxation, I sat down and thought to myself, "Huh! Why are the Spanish more relaxled?!" After pondering this for a while and dallying over the begining of this blog entry, I said to myself, "What are you doing, Jocelyn? You are puzzling over this cultural question, going around in circles in your own mind without bothering to ask the people around you who are living it!" I immediately got up out of the swivelly chair and asked my host mom: Had she heard about the Spanish reputation of being more relaxed? She had, and she attributed it to the country´s siesta and fiesta-the renouned Spanish partying and napping. The Spanish admit to their love of partying openly -just ask my buddies at school- and although the siesta is not so used in today´s society, this deeply rooted traditional mid-day nap says something about Spanish history.
Juan Augustine, doctor and father of my rockclimbing friend, agrees with this reputation but notes that it is over-generalized. He imparted an interesting common phrase that reflects the Spanish disregard of tardiness: "Si vengas tarde, no pasa nada. Y si pasa, ¡saludalo!" The pun is lost in the translation, but in English it would go something like this: "If you arrive late, nothing comes to pass (ie. no problem). And if it does come to pass, greet it!" Think about our tightly-wound culture where on time is late and five minutes late is impossible. On the other hand, the Spanish don´t even tend to set predetermined times for meeting, opting for the "Anytime within that hour will do" approach. Time is something different here: less regimented and more flexible.
Maru, my "adoptive aunt" who is housing me this weekend in Malaga, attributes this relaxed lifestyle in part to the medditeranean climate, as did many of the other Spaniards I inquired. With a warm climate, the people can afford to go out in the streets, stay out late nights, and laze in the sun, whereas people in colder climates find it more difficult to travel comfortably and are restricted to house parties and other indoor activities if they don´t want to freeze their tushies or drown in the rain. But only part of Spain maintains this paradise-like climate; the north certainly has a different feel, say my confidantes. And they should know, since my entire host family comes from the El Pais Vasco near the border of France and Juan Augustine was raised in Galicia above Portugal. So they do have a bit of perspective in this department.
Juan Augustine had a few other interesting ideas on the causes of the relaxed Spanish lifestyle. Consider how Spain has been a Catholic country for the majority of the last 2000 years whereas England, France, Germany, and America are rooted more closely within the Protestant branch of Christianity. While Protestantism (pardon any spelling errors) puts emphasis on work ethic and calculable progress, Catholisism focuses more on just living. Maybe these different religious influences contribute to our different mindsets.
What do I think of all this? Well, I cannot deny that the Spanish appear more relaxed as a people. Yes, my own freedom from responsibility and the resulting relaxed state of being that I have here greatly influences my perception of the people around me -I tend to notice the people who are on my same wavelength- but I have deffinitely noticed the concrete signs of a culture more relaxed than our own (or at least different): the people sleep less and opt instead for socializing in the frequent bars and plazas, clocks are often disregarded, and "¡Tranquilla!" or "Be tranquil!" is often heard in common conversation. Additionally, the laws here are more flexible than ours in America. There is no death penalty, no one stays in jail for more than 30 years, and those who do go to jail usually get out early on good behavior. I believe that Spain´s climate and Catholic roots partially account for the relaxed mindset of the people here in the South and East. Beyond those concrete causes, I can surmise little more. The people here know that what isn´t done today can be done tomorrow and they live for good food, excellent wine, and a good time. They know that in today´s world studying is essential to future success and that work puts food on the table, but they balance this with an emphasis on family unity and living life to its fullest. There are people who don´t fill this description, who are uptight, stressed, or devoted fully to hard work, but they seem few and far between. I cannot pinpoint every cause of the relaxed Spanish mindset, but I admire their ability to see life as one fluid experience that should be enjoyed instead of a series of obstacles to be overcome. I hope I can incorporate some of this into my own life.
Monday, March 5, 2007
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!
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.
-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.
-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.
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