Like a Gypsy

I woke up today at an unbelievably early hour for the weekend. That is, ten a.m. I had a very productive morning. I made myself breakfast, swept and mopped my room, did some laundry, had a shower...I was happy. What was even better was that Paula and I made some adventures afterward. We had a couple hours before she needed to be home for lunch so we met in the center and set off towards the gypsy neighborhood called Sacramonte.

We meandered through the skinny one-way streets where you die if you don't press yourself to the wall as a car passes. Wandering along across a bridge we saw the Alhambra to our right up on the hill tops, and on the left small shops of artesania. We stopped in a place Paula and I now refer to as the Garden of Eden, but is really just the garden of some very fancy house from back in the 1500s. When we were getting ready to leave I saw a man standing in just the perfect position so that the fountain in front of him made for a very strange picture. So I had to copy him. Paula captured it perfectly on film.

Working our butt muscles in a way we never had, we panted heavily and climbed the steep streets to a gorgeous lookout point also facing towards the Alhambra. She pointed out where there is a discoteca built into a cave in the side of the hills we were standing on.

On our way back toward home, and food, we stopped at the Bath House that is one of the last ones so well maintained. It is in a neighborhood that was considered one of the best back in the day. There they had hot, cold, and warm rooms. It was used as a meeting place, people go there to get haircuts, relax, and get massages. The hot room had an underground heater. It was beautiful, and the vent holes in the ceiling were stars. The doors were very tiny and it blows my mind to think how much bigger people are today.

Flamenco Show

I was worried about being able to say I had done everything that people consider essentially "Spanish" such as seeing the Alhambra, seeing a bull fight, enjoying Flamenco (a traditional dance from Andalucia). Although my professor completely convinced me out of going to a see bull fight, I have to say my other cultural activities are coming naturally. Thanks Juanmi for the free visit to the Alhambra! As for this Flamenco experience...

A girl from China is in my grammar class and she lives with a Granadina (a woman from Granada that is) who is friends with a Flamenco singer, otherwise known as cantaor. And no, for those of you who know Spanish, I did not mean to write cantador because they use different words for a singer vs a flamenco singer. There is a bar in town here where every Tuesday they have people perform Flamenco music, aaaand it is free! Most any Flamenco you can watch in Spain has been completely commercialized for the tourists and you pay a ridiculous amount of money to see a performance. When my classmate invited the whole class to go with her and her roommate I jumped at the chance. Performances at local bars are where you will meet the coolest people, be most likely to make connections with locals, etc.

Paula, one of my friends from the WSU program came with me and we met in front of the most well known meeting points in Granada...Burger King. Sick, I know. There was the rest of the group waiting, and so we headed off walking towards the bar. My classmate's roommate and I hit it off. She was very nice, and when we arrived to this little hole in the wall bar she was so excited to show us part of her culture, as most Spaniards really are. The ones I have met so far at least love a curious foreigner. She introduced us to the guitar player and the singer that would be performing that night.

Of course, it is expected you will buy drinks because it is a free show, so we did the traditional cerveza y tapas combination. Hamburgers. And the second round was bbq chicken sandwiches. And the third round was grilled cheese and french fries. The key to finding places where they serve a lot of tapas is to follow the masses. However, I don't mean the blonde, originally dressed masses...

Then the singing started, and wow, I have never seen a man sing with so much feeling. Flamenco is either ecstatic or depressed. Never in between. Its about the hardships of being a wanderer, opressed, or in love I believe, although I found it really difficult to understand any lyrics. As percussion, feet were stamped, hands clapped, tables tapped, and then there was the guitar. Oh, the guitar. You cannot imagine the amount of talent a guitarist must have to play flamenco. His fingers looked like they were hardly touching the strings sometimes, and he watched the singer to know how to make the music flow. It was like moving water, and I was entranced.

In this picture the guitarist is on the left, then Paula, then Sara (la granadina), then the singer, then me. Behind all of us is the bartender who gave me and Paula sexy eyes all night, as well as free food and drinks. We came to find out later he is Italian. It made sense then. The Italians I have met so far are extremely flirtatious, and aggressive in a way that even Latin American men are not.

Some photos of my trip to the Alhambra

what a shame.

I have done what I said I wouldn't. I re-immersed myself in Facebook. I originally got rid of it for many reasons, mostly because I was embarrassed about the ridiculous amount of information people could extract from my profile about my personal life. I hate how much time that people spend analyzing others' lives and not living their own. It is such a weird social phenomenon, but oh-so-human. Gossip, envy, it all comes so naturally to us, and I definitely think its worth it to fight our nature in those cases. Facebook makes all of that seem so much more acceptable. And then we have the crazies out there who use their statuses to update the uncaring world about how many times they have brushed their teeth that day. The worst part is that I am guilty of all the crap I make fun of. This is why it was deleted in the first place. I feel embarrassed. Anyway, its back. I just had to confess.

The blessing of this story is that at least it is easier to get in contact with friends back home.

Cinderella (the unedited version)

CAUTION: This story is highly inappropriate, Spanish, and told by one of the funniest people I have met from Granada thus far. He was a substitute professor when I was in level 7. I tried to stay in his class just because he was so funny, but he did not let me...what a shame. This story was told and then the activity was that we had to correct what the incorrect parts of the fairytale were using subjuctive. For those of you who don´t know, subjunctive is where the devil hangs out in the Spanish language. It exists only to torture poor estadounidenses. Impossible, it is not...but it sure makes a fool of me on a daily basis.

Once upon a time there was a girl named Ella, but her father had died and so she had to live with her horrible stepmother and stepsisters who called her Cinderella. They made her clean the house like a slave everyday, and so she was always dirty. Her life was sad, but she accepted her duties. One day, the most amazing thing happened. The whole family was invited to a ball where the prince would choose his wife. She almost cried with happiness. This would be the most fun she had ever had, and no one was stopping her from attending...until her Madrastra (stepmother, an ugly word no?) told her all of the chores she would have to do before attending. An impossible list.

After the horrible women left for the ball, she sat down on the floor and cried, but as her tears hit the floor she heard the tinkling of bells. She looked up and there before her was a fairy.

"Hello, my sweet. I am your fairy godmother. Why are your crying?"

Cinderella said, "I want to go to this ball, but I will never be able to get all these chores done, I have no dress, and I do not even have a way to get there."

In the blink of an eye the house was sparkling, she was in an incredible ball gown, and a pumpkin from the garden had been turned into the most wonderful carriage she had ever seen.

The fairy godmother advised her then, "Now go out and have the time of your life but be sure to return before the clock strike 12 or your...or your...your *cough cough* will turn into a mellon. ¿Entiendes? Do you understand?

"Oh, yes! Fairy godmother, I would never want that to happen so I will be very careful to make it home."

Cinderella then went to the ball, but when she got there she realized the prince had insisted on a dinner instead of a dance. She was seated to his right because he thought she was absolutely the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. For dinner, it was a traditional Spanish dish, mellon and cheese, which was his favorite.

She watched as he dug in, and as they conversed she lost track of time. His words entranced her, and as he devoured mellon after mellon she realized this man was for her.

After a time, he turned to her and asked, "What time did you say you have to be home?" She looked down in to her lap, and when she looked up again she just replied, "Oh, I don´t know. I guess it is not so important now. Four or five?"

muajaja! Vulgar Granadinos. I guess the joke makes less sense in English, but I thought I would share because I was greatly amused at the time.

Snow White and the Seven Blankets

I am sitting here with my second-hand hot waterbottle in my lap looking out my floor to ceiling apartment windows at the people of Granada walking by with their umbrellas. They are befuddled and confused as to what to do about this confounded weather. They think, "Its like rain, so I guess I need this...but then again, it hardly gets me wet." That is to say,

IT´S SNOWING IN GRANADA.

My mind is blown, and my body is freezing. I was thinking about going out for a long walk today through the Gypsy neighborhood, Sacromonte, but this now seems like more of a torturous trek than anything. I do not know if I have the guts. I mean, I know I am a Norwegian, who grew up in Chicago, Iowa, Minnesota but I am still such a wimp with the cold.

It has been discovered that it is very cheap to travel to the Canary Islands, so that is what the WSU kids are planning to do over our week of vacation before our real classes start. Sunshine, beaches...it makes me drool to think of it.

I can´t stop laughing as I see all of the umbrellas walking by below me on the street.

The other day I visited the actual Alhambra, not just the lookout point. It was so amazing. I wanted to eat all of the hand carved walls because they looked like they were carved out of sugar. Imagining individuals spending months, or years on one piece of that wall, it made me grateful that it wasn´t me. The rediculous measures that humans go to to enjoy beauty. I cannot imagine having that kind of passion or patience. Go artisans! Go MOM!

Seriously Incredible

In this case I totally agree that a picture is worth a thousand words...and I DONT HAVE ONE!

Yesderday my conversation partner took me to the the place that Bill Clinton himself claimed was the most gorgeous view in the world. It was a surprise where we were going though and like a dummy, I did not grab my camera.

Sitting on a sun warmed wall, legs dangling I looked to the left and there were tree covered hills. As my eyes scanned right, I layed eyes on the snow cover Sierra Nevadas. Just right of that mind blowing view though, was one of the wonders of the world, La Alhambra. It was golden and magnificent  as it is in all the pictures on postcards. Just to the right of that all of Granada spread out below us. As a back drop a setting sun.

It was like rainbow sherbet for the eyes. We spent sever hours there just chatting in English and Spanish.

I think its pretty clear where the blessings are in this entry.

It must just be Spain...

I am having a great time, let´s be clear about this. However, could things keep going wrong? Please? I mean, having an awesome exchange group, going out, enjoying Spanish cuisine is great and all but the dramas of this trip is what is SOOOO awesome.

I have not written in a few days because my laptop is now broken. How, why, I do not know. I bought a new part today and it didn´t work. The next possible solution will cost me a serious hunk of money I am using my flat mate´s ordenador.

Not to mention the rediculous back and forth about everything concerning our classes at CLM.

Sorry. No more complaining, I promise.I moved into my new apartment which is definitly something to celebrate. This flat mate of mine is a middle aged hottie who is so chatty and kind. When I saw this place I thought, I just have to have that. So even though I said I was going to look elsewhere, I totally didn´t and called her the next day about moving in. She has never rented before, is single and lost her daughter about 11 years ago now in an accident. Her apt is amazing. I have a room to myself which is so cute. What a shame my laptop does not work parental units, so I could show you guys. The whole apt. is very modern and has art work and books from other parts of the world. I knew I liked her when I saw the kinds of books on her shelves. She is learning English and is totally spunky.

Man...I just can´t even focus to think of what I can mention from these last few days. There has been so much. Sparadic thoughts then it is I guess...

I went grocery shopping for the first time here. It was pretty cheap I thought.

The last night we had a free food tasting, the SOL kids. At least we didn´t feel so SOL once we had gotten to eat our fill of Serrano Ham, stuffed olives, Spanish wine, Christmas treats called mantecados which I feasted on, and home made french bread dipped in several olive oils made around the country. I was in heaven. I think I probably ate half of what was on the table for everyone. That is no exaggeration either. When they didn´t like it they passed it down to me. I love food. Exotic, expensive food that we eat for free, especially.

Today I met a shop owner, who offered to tour me around the Alhambra. I absolutely accepted because he has been four times and loves it, so I figured he would be a bit knowledgable. Then I asked if my friends could come along too. Muajajaja! No date for you, Persian shop owner.

The most amazing sunshine lit up Granada today, so I took advantage of it and read my book Mil Soles Esplendidos in a plaza. I moved around for more than an hour just soaking it up. I felt like a cat. A fat, happy cat.

Yesterday I visited the bar across from my school for tapas. The reason I went in was because I heard the most beautiful guitar playing. I could resist. Like a moth to light, I had to check it out. It was this little Japanese guy, also the bartender. While waiting for customers he just plays around with his guitar. He is in the process of mastering the art of Flamenco music. I ordered a beer, and how tapas work is that when you order a glass of beer or wine, you get free food with it. It usually costs about two euros. That day, was sushi. The man was also a sushi chef! And boy was it goooOOOOooood. Food and music, and then to top it off two strange Spanish women came in and we got to chatting. So I made my first real contact with locals. It was a beautiful experience.

They moved me up again, to level 8 at school. Now I have classes in the morning again which I am very pleased about.

Alright, so I suppose I will wrap this up now. My hands are freezing. Spanish homes rarely are heated and when they are, usually a space heater does the job for the whole house. I never take my outside jacket off. I may or may not climb under my covers to read my book again, until the party begins again tonight!

Thinking of you, my lovely family and friends. Hopefully Skype will be possible again in the near future.

Entrance Exam

Yesterday was the first day of school and we had to take our placement exam. I woke up and managed to find a rather large group of mostly blonde kids hanging out in the center and so I followed them to the CLM (Centro de Lenguas Modernas). Without them I would have arrived lost, and late as I did to the Palacio de Congreso just the other day. When we showed up there were probably close to one hundred US Americans milling about, waiting nervously to start the exam. We got to our assigned classrooms and were told we would have a 40 min. writing exam. I thought that went great, and I tried to give semi creative answers...to show off a bit, I admit. Then came the grammar part. I flew threw it, although the last section of the 9 section test definitely threw me off a bit. I must have just skipped the lesson about subjunctive in high school. I swear I do not remember learning that EVER. However, I had learned how it worked mas o menos in Argentina. I left feeling confident and ready to chat it up in my oral exam.

Then I actually got into the oral exam. This was not an exam but more of an interrogation. I was questioned where I was from and when the professor found out we were a group of seven from WSU she then moved on to ask what I had done in the many days I had been there (let me mention that 5 days in my opinion in a new country is not what I would call many). I told her I had walked around the city a lot, gone out to see what the Spanish night life was like and had eaten some great food. I think she wanted to know if I had made sure to do some touristy things right off the bat. Strike one. Strike two was when she asked if we spent all of our time together, the WSU students. Yes. We do, considering we are brand new here and haven't had a way to meet any Spaniards. Then, as I was trying to explain that having each other is comforting in such a new place, she interrupted to ask if we speak English all the time. I said no we didn't, but we spoke it a lot. Eyebrows raised she says that we will talk about my test scores now.

Level 9 being the highest possible level of fluency, aka a Spaniard, I had gotten a six on the grammar part of the test. I was disappointed but could believe that the grammar was the thing that I have the most trouble with. When she commented how my writing was better than my test score though she said that I could possibly handle being in a level seven class but that I should know if it was too hard they would move me down. All of this might sound fine, but I was mad. I left feeling completely decepcionada because I wanted a really great score. I couldn't help but feel like, so much for a year abroad to learn the language. A level six is what most kids were in. This assumption being based upon the eavesdropping I proceeded to do after getting my score and moving out into the cluster of other students.

So I can admit I acted like a spoiled brat about this whole thing, possibly overestimating my Spanish skills. I was humbled when I got to class today to find out that I really did not know much about the subjunctive tense at all. Even so, everything else in the class was stuff I knew and so I requested to be moved up a level which my professor gladly did for me. That means now I will have classes from 4-8pm now.

I also looked at an apt. yesterday which seems like a great option. I would live with a Spanish woman and her boyfriend right in the center. Washing machine, my own room with a wardrobe, kitchen, a grocery store just to the right of our building, wifi, heat, air...all for just 270 euros a month. Today I will look at a couple more just to compare.

SUITCASES ARRIVED!!!!!!!

Blessings: That I could see where I struggle with the language a lot. That my professor today complimented my skills and said she would definitely move me up a level. That my suitcases arrived today!!! That I have at least one good apartment option. :)

Blessings

Before I left home one of our family dinner conversations got a debate going. My mom said she had read somewhere a quote that said something like, "There are those in the world that see everything in the world as a miracle, and those who see do not see anything as being a miracle." I decided I am definitely one who sees everything as being miraculous. I mean, this topic got my brother riled up and chatting at the dinner table, which at this point is DEFINITELY a miraculous thing in my opinion! (Love you boy. Haha) Although I am not religious, I have some sort of faith. Sorting it out though and putting rules on it does not make sense to me though at this point. However, I do believe there is reason to do good. That conversation inspired me to focus my blog on the blessings, miracles, or just GOOD things that happen to me on this study abroad.

I decided the other day that because I do not have a home yet, lost luggage was a good thing. Nothing but a backpack to lug around. "Free baggage check" as my father put it. Although, the same clothes for five days in a row now...well that's not true. My fellow girl exchangers have all been willing to share their everything with me. Right down to the underwear. Seriously though. Vittoria gifted me a couple of never-worn pairs. Friends are GOOD! Corrin (another one of the WSU program, housemate of Vittoria and Paula) lent me her MAC charger so as to keep in touch with family and friends at home and write this.

The other day the security guard that made all the phone calls for me went truly out of his way to help me. Phone calls, bathroom access, a place to sit and comforting words went a long way to console me.

So. Although it might be truly cheeseball, I intend to mention at least one amazing thing that happens to me every blog. Yay blessings!

So Foreign

I am about to embark on the journey of a life time. It feels strange though to be going away for six months and not really feel it at all. I got to the airport and said one of my very well known "crappy goodbyes." I have heard from many that my farewells are known for leaving people wanting more. The hanging around and moaning and groaning are just so difficult for me though. Anyway, kisses to my mom, dad, and grandfather who came with to shoo me off on to another time abroad. As I walked away I trusted completely that all of the disorganization this trip was would come together. I know I tend to need a plan and sometimes life just does not work that way.

When I got to Chicago though I started to get skeptical that the disorganization would just sort itself out. I was told my carry on was too large and that they would have to check it to Madrid for me. I made the mistake of not getting a change of clothes out of there to take in my backpack because of course when I got to Madrid I found out the bad news. Not only had my carry on been lost, but my other bag had been lost as well. Great. Me, my backpack full of random semi-useless items, and a few "emergency phone numbers." Here's the thing about emergency phone numbers, they are useless when you are hours away from any of the emergency help that they offer. They are especially useless when one technologically disabled girl cannot figure out how to use the Spanish payphones.

I filed the luggage claim and moseyed around, rather desperately actually, trying to figure out how to buy a ticket for the bus that would leave the airport at 1030 for Granada. Finally, I figured it out. After sitting in front of the closed ticket booth for quite a while, the couple next to me informed me they had just found out it was closed for the holiday. There goes my best bet of getting to Granada. On to option number two...finding the bus station.

I asked a lot of people how to do this. Got sent in a million directions, but eventually found out I would have to take the metro. On my way there I realized I was on the verge of collapsing from hunger so I stopped at this airport cafe where they had fresh made sandwiches to buy and various hot foods. I chose a sandwich because finding food is one of the more intimidating things for me in other countries. I decided to begin my time in Spain with a Prosciutto ham and cheese sandwich. Let it be known that it is a very delicous, however tough, kind of ham well known in Spain.

As I sat down to eat, I could not wait to take my first bites of the long awaited food. Then I noticed the Spanish man watching me. Staring. No shame. I became nervous, and then worse, I realized I was making crumb fireworks all over my table every time I bit in to the ever so crusty bread. Not to mention me and this Prosciutto ham were in a downright brawl. Seriously, this ham was taking me down. I swear I broke a sweat, and I don't know if it was because I was working so hard to tear through this meat or because of the embarrassment of being examined in all of my foreign inability to consume a sandwich. I gave up after half of this foot long meal and removed the ham. Cheese and bread would have to suffice I decided.

More wandering of course, but I finally did come across the Metro. The directions I had received from some airport worker were clear and easy which is always a good thing for me. If you know me at all you know about my directional disability. I am forever getting lost. The Metro took me to the bus station where I bought a ticket to Granada, no problem. A few hours later I was on my way.

The trip went smoothly I would say. I was seated next to a formal little lady who greeted me cordially as I sat down next to her. Behind me I could hear a group of Asian students conversing excitedly. I was exhausted though so I covered my face with my scarf and then passed out. A few dreams later I awoke with a start. Not because anyone had touched me or called out. I had snored SO LOUD that I woke me self up. Worse then was I was imagining everyone staring at my scarf covered head wondering what the hell that noise had just been. So then I tried to sigh as if that would mask the crazy loud "ronca" that had just ripped through that area of the bus. I am sure the glow of my red cheeks probably shined through my scarf.

Break time came around and I met a musician. We got to talking and he was from right outside the city of Granada. He had moved there so as not to disturb neighbors with his loud practicing. Very cool guy, and he plays a some bar around here. Not to mention, he told me about a few places to watch live jazz. I have to say, so far every person I have met in Spain has done an incredible job of helping me out. I had heard about how the Spanish people can be kind of cold, but that has been the opposite of my experience so far.

I made it to Granada great, and the taxi driver who works with our support system came to get me at the bus station (SOL is our exchange support group here. Yes. That really is its name. Although it does mean "sun" in Spanish, those of you who speak English fluently might find that name to be rather amusing.) When I got in he asked me where to go, and I had to tell him I had no idea because all of the housing stuff was a complete disaster. A hostel I supposed, but we call my program director who found me a house to stay at for cheap and that would feed me.

The next day we had orientation, which is where I would find out I actually would be finding my own apartment. Renting as if I were a student from Spain. No luggage, no house. I was feeling a bit overwhelmed. We were told to meet at the Palacio de Congreso at 11. The other students were escorted by their host parents, and I followed the directions of the woman I was staying with, but still managed to show up late. I looked around. And I looked some more. And the I asked if the security guard had seen any students gathering and when he said no I looked some more. Then I went back to him to ask about calling my director. When I got no answer I went outside. I cried. I remembered I had the number of the woman I was staying with. We called her and she called the director. Finally, I found out he would come find me at the government building where I was currently having a minor breakdown.

An hour after the original meeting time he showed up and we walked to his office where everyone else was waiting and as we walked in all the other students let out minor cheers because we were all there. Then I lost it. Uncontrolled sobs. Forty-eight hours and many-a-stress later, finally some familiar faces. I managed to get myself under control though as we learned that it is completely rude in Spanish culture to walk around the house without house shoes on, and that shoes never ever go on beds or chairs. It was raining, but the director, Vitty and I all went to pick up my list of apts. I could choose from. Lunch was in order and Vitty and I ate a delicious Falafel sandwich stuffed with the worlds most heavenly ingredients and then went to buy cell phones.

That night we tried to get the whole group together, but when that didn't work, four of us girls went and got some food and a bottle of local wine before heading out for a night of fun. We ended up in a bar that played some good music, we danced a lot, and even got enticed to stay a while longer by the bartender. A free round of drinks to the foreign girls so they stick around and bring in business? I think yes...

I know I'm not there yet...

So I still have yet to actually arrive in Spain, but I figured I could write a little somethin-somethin instead of unpacking from my weekday road-trip...as well as the boxes of school stuff I still have not gotten around to doing which are currently blocking the upstairs hallway. *cough cough. Sorry family*

I spent all day yesterday suffering immensely because of a bad bout of the flu. While all the family got to go out and enjoy I could hardly make it out of bed. At 12:08 am I realized I had not even shouted "happy new year" to myself. What a dud of a holiday! Here's to hoping that it in no way foreshadows this year to come.

Dale España! Y Feliz Año Nuevo a todos!!