As far as finding an exciting, blog-worthy story goes, this past week proved to be a bit of a challenge. Thankfully, salvation came in the form of two adventures. The first took place on Thursday night. It was just before sunset and I was running, ok briskly walking, along one of my favorite routes in the Spanish countryside. I was getting close to Ronda and had just turned to trudge up a massive hill when I suddenly heard a loud “neigh”. Pausing NSync’s, “Pop,” on my iPod I looked up to the top of the hill where a beautiful, white horse stood looking at me from its pen. What happened next was so ridiculous that if I had seen it in a movie or read it in a book I would have died from its cheesiness. But the fact that it actually happened upgrades this story from a cheddar-cheese fest to a more tolerable feta-level. Therefore, I’m going to go ahead and share it with you all whether you want to hear it or not.
As I continued to walk up the hill the horse kept looking at me and neighing. So when I reached the top, I rounded the corner and walked over to the its pen to stand by the gate. Well, the horse saw where I was and left its look-out point to walk over and stand by me. Having grown up watching, “My Little Pony,” and reading cool books like Pony Pals, I can tell you that this whole scenario was a dream come true. He even lifted its head over the gate and let me pet him! I started to walk away but my new friend was not pleased. He started to follow me along the fence. So in what probably made me look like a 10-year-old (or a leading-candidate for a public intoxication ticket) I started to run back-and-forth along the fence. Apparently the horse was not appalled by this ridiculousness because he started to run with me! We kept this up for a few minutes but the impending darkness forced us to cut our game short. My guess is that he probably would have won anyways. Walking away I could see my pal as he lingered by the fence for a few minutes. I like to think he was waiting to see if I would come back, but my guess is that he just wanted some food…or to check out the sexy mule across the road. It’s a tough call.
The next story takes place in a little town called Madrid. After school on Friday, six of us loaded up a bus and drove 8 hours to get to the capital city. Our plan was to see the sights during the day and watch the biggest “futbol” game in Spain Saturday night: Barcelona vs. Real Madrid. We were all so excited! One of the girls in the group even said that she had an, ahem, source that would get us into the stadium during the match! (Just to spare you the heartbreak, this source proved to be a no-go in the end. So don’t get your hopes up).
Anyways, the first night we stayed in my shadiest hostel to date. It was conveniently located by the bus station but I’m pretty sure that it was a hospital before someone decided to put locks on the doors and call it a hostel. Every level had a long, white-tiled hallway with florescent lights that flickered when you walked beneath them and the other tenants were, well, old men. In the morning when we were checking out to move to our central-Madrid hostel our friend Joe pulled back his sleeves to reveal to all of us a series of spider bites that he had obtained from his bed the night before. So if you’re into this sort of camping-while-inside lifestyle, Hostel Welcome is for you.
Ok, now for the fun stuff. After checking into the way cool Cats Hostel we travelled all over Madrid and saw the AMAZING, WONDERFUL, BEAUTIFUL Prado Museum as well as the Grand Palace, the Plaza Mayor, and of course the Real Madrid Futbol Stadium. We ended up taking a tour of the stadium where we got to take “pictures” with the players (for namesake, I of course chose Kaka) see the trophy room and sit in the player’s super comfy field chairs.
By the end of the day we knew that we were not going to be able to get into the stadium to see the game so we all just planned to just eat dinner, walk over to an Irish pub and enjoy the craziness that comes with a European soccer game. Well 8:15 p.m. rolled around and in keeping true to Spanish traditions, had yet to eat dinner. Now it just so happens that one of my friends, Georger, is the biggest Real Madrid fan you can imagine and she was a bit concerned that she would miss part of the game if we stayed at the Tai restaurant we had all agreed to eat at. So in the end I offered to leave with her and we ended going to a tapas bar where we could eat and watch the beginning of the game at the same time. Turns out two guys from our hostel were there and in a very non-date-like situation, the four of us ended up hanging out.
After tapas and a very unimpressive showing of Madrid in the first half, the four of us switched venues and went to the pub to watch the game. The place was PACKED. You know that vibe you get at Allen Fieldhouse when the game is just about to start? Goosebumps, manly tears, that whole bit. Well, I didn’t get that feeling but everyone else certainly seemed to. It was great! The two times Barcelona scored a goal, half of the bar would go absolutely nuts; hugging, screaming and pouring their drinks on the floor. And while the other side of the bar wasn’t able to celebrate a goal, the many times Ronaldo failed to score for Madrid allotted them the opportunity to groan and shout “joder” very loudly.
In the end, Madrid lost 0-2. It was sad. I know that if they had only been able to pull it off that the city would have been like Carnaval on the grandest of scales. But while we weren’t able to celebrate a win, Georger, the two guys and I ended up staying at the pub and then going over to a dance bar a little later to enjoy the night life. After a very fun night filled with an Irish woman named Lisa who talked about the positive changes having children had on her body, a student from Syracuse University (sorry Rosie, he hadn’t taken any of your classes)a guy who was a little too good at time management and a great DJ we decided to call it a night and headed back to our hostel at 4 a.m.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Monday, April 5, 2010
Italy, Vending Machines and Nazis...Oh My!
Ciao! This past week was Spring Break and four of my friends (Amanda, Abby, Joe, Kristen) and I decided that the time had come to leave our beloved Spain and travel to the pasta-capital of the world, Italy. The plan was simple enough: fly to Milan, take the train to Rome and see as many cities in between as we could. In the end, no one died. A true success. But as with everything else that has happened this semester, there were a few bruises along the way.
Milan:
After a very long day of travel the four of us ended up in the center of the Milan bus station around 10 at night. Thankfully, ye’old GoogleMaps said that we were only a few blocks away from our hostel and we left the station eager to sleep on a nice, clean bed. Well, as we got closer and closer to our hostel we began to notice that we weren’t exactly in the ritzy part of Milan. Paint fumes filled our nostrils as we walked by walls graffiti and the locals in the area weren’t exactly sporting Armani tuxes. But we finally found our hostel and were relieved to find it clean and safe-ish.
After we put our things down we ventured out again to find us some dinner. This time we not only noticed the graffiti but an unusually large number of women lining the streets. I believe they are what you call, “working” women. If this didn’t tip us off to the fact that we were in a slightly-shady area of town then the naked man hanging out of his window or the vending machines did the trick. Yes, in addition to your typical cookies and candy bars, these vending machines were packed with practical items such as condoms, pregnancy tests (you know, just in case your vending-machine condoms fail you) and pesto! Clever Italians.
Needless to say, we didn’t really see the side of Milan that we were expecting. But that just made it all the more fun.
Other things that happened in Milan: Abby was hit on by a 40-year-old British many who liked her because she was, “difficult” and Joe, Kristen and I set off a grocery store alarm by accidentally walking out of the fire-exit door.
Venice:
Our next stop was Venice. We were only there for a night but everyone agreed that with its random alleyways and beautiful buildings, that Venice was by far the best Italian city we explored. After walking around for a bit we all decided to take a break in our hostel and ended up watching about 30 minutes of E.T. in Italian. For those of you not hip on dubbed-over movies, when translated, E.T.’s famous “phone home” line is actually, “telephono casa.” Eventually we left the hostel and dined on fantastic spaghetti and red wine. All of the bars and such unfortunately closed early but we entertained ourselves throughout the night by walking around the city and choosing random corridors to explore. Everything was going fine…then we met the Nazi.
During our exploration I noticed a statue of Mary surrounded by flowers (my guess is that it was for Semana Santa) standing right outside the train station. I walked over to investigate and the rest of the group followed suit. Well while we all examined this curious sight an older man walked over and said in Italian, “Who died? Oh, Jesus Christ died.” Odd, we all thought, but ok. Then he started to try to talk to us. It was pretty late and for safety sake we all kept quiet and tried to ignore him. He didn’t get the hint and pretty soon he was trying to talk to us in English. This is about the time that my friend Joe thought it would be a good idea to ask him in German if he spoke German. “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” Joe asked.
The question seemed to puzzle the man and he finally fell silent. We took the opportunity to leave and started walking away when we suddenly heard, “Wait! Deutsch!”
We all turn around to see the same man holding out his phone running to catch up with us. “Deutsch, wait,” he said. “Adolf Hitler is my friend!”
Confused we all looked down at his cell phone where, sure enough, he had a picture of the Fuhrer pulled up on the screen. Well, at this point we were about 99-100% sure that this man was a loony. This is also when we realized that no one in our group speak could speak German. So in what sounded like the seagulls in, “Finding Nemo,” we all started to rapidly-yell, “Nein, nein,” and quickly turned to leave.
“Wait! Adolf Hitler is my friend. Adolf Hitler is my friend!” The man would not give up and was still following us so we did what any French tourist would do in this situation…we ran. Looking over our shoulders we could see that the Nazi was running after us and could hear him yelling, “Adolf Hitler is my friend!” I don’t know why he was shouting in English, but no matter. Countering his chant was the sound of all of our seagull-voices yelling, “Nein! Nein!”
We finally found a spot to hide under one of the many famous bridges in Venice and stayed there until the shouts of, “Adolf Hitler is my friend,” faded into the distance. Thus we learned to never claim German citizenship again.
Other things in Italy:
Pisa: Random down pour that drenched us all on the way from the Leaning Tower to the train station (it started when we left the tower and ended when got to the station).
Florence: Karaoke to “What’s Up,” we don’t know the lines but the Italians can’t understand us and give a rip-roaring round of applause at the end.
Rome: Awesome pub crawl at night, brief nap in the Italian sun on the lawn of the Roman Forum the next day. Oh, and we saw the Pope! He was extremely far away and we would have heard him speak if it hadn’t been for Rob…you wouldn’t understand.
Milan:
After a very long day of travel the four of us ended up in the center of the Milan bus station around 10 at night. Thankfully, ye’old GoogleMaps said that we were only a few blocks away from our hostel and we left the station eager to sleep on a nice, clean bed. Well, as we got closer and closer to our hostel we began to notice that we weren’t exactly in the ritzy part of Milan. Paint fumes filled our nostrils as we walked by walls graffiti and the locals in the area weren’t exactly sporting Armani tuxes. But we finally found our hostel and were relieved to find it clean and safe-ish.
After we put our things down we ventured out again to find us some dinner. This time we not only noticed the graffiti but an unusually large number of women lining the streets. I believe they are what you call, “working” women. If this didn’t tip us off to the fact that we were in a slightly-shady area of town then the naked man hanging out of his window or the vending machines did the trick. Yes, in addition to your typical cookies and candy bars, these vending machines were packed with practical items such as condoms, pregnancy tests (you know, just in case your vending-machine condoms fail you) and pesto! Clever Italians.
Needless to say, we didn’t really see the side of Milan that we were expecting. But that just made it all the more fun.
Other things that happened in Milan: Abby was hit on by a 40-year-old British many who liked her because she was, “difficult” and Joe, Kristen and I set off a grocery store alarm by accidentally walking out of the fire-exit door.
Venice:
Our next stop was Venice. We were only there for a night but everyone agreed that with its random alleyways and beautiful buildings, that Venice was by far the best Italian city we explored. After walking around for a bit we all decided to take a break in our hostel and ended up watching about 30 minutes of E.T. in Italian. For those of you not hip on dubbed-over movies, when translated, E.T.’s famous “phone home” line is actually, “telephono casa.” Eventually we left the hostel and dined on fantastic spaghetti and red wine. All of the bars and such unfortunately closed early but we entertained ourselves throughout the night by walking around the city and choosing random corridors to explore. Everything was going fine…then we met the Nazi.
During our exploration I noticed a statue of Mary surrounded by flowers (my guess is that it was for Semana Santa) standing right outside the train station. I walked over to investigate and the rest of the group followed suit. Well while we all examined this curious sight an older man walked over and said in Italian, “Who died? Oh, Jesus Christ died.” Odd, we all thought, but ok. Then he started to try to talk to us. It was pretty late and for safety sake we all kept quiet and tried to ignore him. He didn’t get the hint and pretty soon he was trying to talk to us in English. This is about the time that my friend Joe thought it would be a good idea to ask him in German if he spoke German. “Sprechen Sie Deutsch?” Joe asked.
The question seemed to puzzle the man and he finally fell silent. We took the opportunity to leave and started walking away when we suddenly heard, “Wait! Deutsch!”
We all turn around to see the same man holding out his phone running to catch up with us. “Deutsch, wait,” he said. “Adolf Hitler is my friend!”
Confused we all looked down at his cell phone where, sure enough, he had a picture of the Fuhrer pulled up on the screen. Well, at this point we were about 99-100% sure that this man was a loony. This is also when we realized that no one in our group speak could speak German. So in what sounded like the seagulls in, “Finding Nemo,” we all started to rapidly-yell, “Nein, nein,” and quickly turned to leave.
“Wait! Adolf Hitler is my friend. Adolf Hitler is my friend!” The man would not give up and was still following us so we did what any French tourist would do in this situation…we ran. Looking over our shoulders we could see that the Nazi was running after us and could hear him yelling, “Adolf Hitler is my friend!” I don’t know why he was shouting in English, but no matter. Countering his chant was the sound of all of our seagull-voices yelling, “Nein! Nein!”
We finally found a spot to hide under one of the many famous bridges in Venice and stayed there until the shouts of, “Adolf Hitler is my friend,” faded into the distance. Thus we learned to never claim German citizenship again.
Other things in Italy:
Pisa: Random down pour that drenched us all on the way from the Leaning Tower to the train station (it started when we left the tower and ended when got to the station).
Florence: Karaoke to “What’s Up,” we don’t know the lines but the Italians can’t understand us and give a rip-roaring round of applause at the end.
Rome: Awesome pub crawl at night, brief nap in the Italian sun on the lawn of the Roman Forum the next day. Oh, and we saw the Pope! He was extremely far away and we would have heard him speak if it hadn’t been for Rob…you wouldn’t understand.
Saturday, March 20, 2010
Rough but Complete: Metro Story
Man have I got some stories for you guys! This past week alone I have visited Granada with my school, Tangier with my family and Barcelona with some friends. I will post more about the first two later but first I MUST tell you all about what just happened to us all on the Barcelona metro....
Around 8 p.m. the four of us decided that we wanted to go see this really cool light show at the old Olympic Stadium/Grand Palace. So, we got our things together and headed out to take the metro to the old end of town. Well, it being Saturday night and all, the metro was absolutely packed. But we managed to huddle into a corner and settled in for the long ride. Well, at the next stop these two blokes got on and stood next to me and my other blonde friend Marissa. They were standing too close. At one point I could have sworn that I felt one of the guys hands in the pocket of my purse but being my Midwestern self I figured that they were only pressing up against us because of the overpopulated metro car. Still, I decided to hug my purse after that. Well, after two more stops the guys were still creepin´ and I was getting a peeved. But my dude finally backed off after some forceful hints.
But then the craziness ensued. Around the third stop my guy got off of the metro as soon as the doors opened. Marissa's pal however, hung around a bit longer and made for the doors just as they started to close. Suddenly, Marissa turned to me panicked and said, "he has my wallet!" In my state of shock I looked over and saw that that guy had gotten caught in the metro door. Without really thinking this through I made my way over to him, tugged on his shirt and in the best Spanish I could muster asked if he had my friend's wallet. [Editor´s note: Ok, yes this was the lamest way to approach a pickpocketer but in my defense this all happened very fast and I had never been pickpocketed before]. The guy didn't answer. Apparently asking for a wallet was not very intimidating. But I guess I looked pathetic enough because suddenly this long-haired, bearded man grabbed the thief by the collar and pulled him back onto the car. Without letting go of the greasy little rat´s shirt, our knight-in-shining-leather (he was wearing a leather coat) started to yell at the thief and kept asking him where he put our wallet. The whole time this was going on the metro was at a standstill (remember this for later).
Another passenger on the metro began to shout and pointed to just outside the car door where the thief´s hands had escaped without the rest of his body. There, lying on the tiled floor of the metro station was Marissa´s leather wallet! The passenger handed me the wallet and I went back to our corner to give it to Marissa. In the mean time, the short rat (the thief) escaped from our knight and lunged for the still-open door. But he was no match for our hero. (I´m just going to name this guy Knight for the rest of the story, ok? And let´s just go ahead and name the thief Sotu [scum of the universe]).
Knight grabbed the rat again and yelled (in Spanish), "No! You are going to the police." Well, suddenly a random man (we will call him Jorge) standing outside of the metro car grabbed Sotu out of the hands of Knight and said that he would take over from there. Knight would not have this. (I think he thought that Jorge was Sotu´s friend and was simply going to help him escape). Yelling, "No! Police!" once again, Knight played tug-of-war with Jorge for the posession of Sotu. Looking back on this moment, I realize just how bizarre of an experience it was. Two grown men were standing on and off of a metro car in Barcelona fighting for the possession of a greasy, little man.
Anyways, Jorge eventually let go and pulled out a police badge! Apparently Barcelona has undercover cops stroll the metro systems looking for pickpocketers. Well, this was good enough for Knight and he let Sotu go. Jorge also wanted to speak with Marissa and the rest of us about the whole incident so the four of us got off of the still-stalled metro car and waited to be questioned. Looking up and down the metro station I could see dozens of Barcelonians peeking their heads out of the other metro car doors, straining to see what had happened and why they had not moved on to their next destination. When the metro finally left, it seemed like everyone was looking at me, the other girls, Jorge and Sotu...so much for a low-key trip.
While Sotu went with Jorge´s partner to sit on a bench with the man who had burst my bubble in the metro ride (I don´t know how he was caught) Marissa searched through her purse to make sure that Sotu hadn´t taken anything else. All of her money and cards were where they should have been. But wait, the cell phone that had been in her zipped up coat pocket was missing. Jorge instructed his partner to search Sotu´s pocket and sure enough the slime ball had used his greasy hands to snatch away Marissa´s phone! Not only that, but Jorge brought over two other cell phones to make sure that they didn´t belong to any of us. They didn´t. I guess Sotu and his pal had been at it for awhile.
In the end, we got to the Grand Palace and the Olympic Stadium (where there was no light show) unharmed and much wiser. I learned that when approaching a pickpocketer it is better to grab him by the scruff and scream in his face than to pull on his shirt and sternly question his motives. Sotu, on the other hand, learned what it was like to be booked for petty theft.
The only thing that I really regret is that I never got a chance to thank Knight. We were all still in shock when we walked off of the metro that I don´t think any of us really got a chance to properly express our gratitude. So Knight, I seriously doubt that you are actually going to read this but, thank you! You saved the day. And while I´m sure that I had the pickpocketer trembling in fear, I don´t think that everything would have worked out quite as well without you.
P.S. Moment of irony. When we got back on the Metro to go to dinner a woman stopped us as we were walking in the station and warned us to watch our bags tonight because they might get stolen. The universe has a very sick sense of humor.
Around 8 p.m. the four of us decided that we wanted to go see this really cool light show at the old Olympic Stadium/Grand Palace. So, we got our things together and headed out to take the metro to the old end of town. Well, it being Saturday night and all, the metro was absolutely packed. But we managed to huddle into a corner and settled in for the long ride. Well, at the next stop these two blokes got on and stood next to me and my other blonde friend Marissa. They were standing too close. At one point I could have sworn that I felt one of the guys hands in the pocket of my purse but being my Midwestern self I figured that they were only pressing up against us because of the overpopulated metro car. Still, I decided to hug my purse after that. Well, after two more stops the guys were still creepin´ and I was getting a peeved. But my dude finally backed off after some forceful hints.
But then the craziness ensued. Around the third stop my guy got off of the metro as soon as the doors opened. Marissa's pal however, hung around a bit longer and made for the doors just as they started to close. Suddenly, Marissa turned to me panicked and said, "he has my wallet!" In my state of shock I looked over and saw that that guy had gotten caught in the metro door. Without really thinking this through I made my way over to him, tugged on his shirt and in the best Spanish I could muster asked if he had my friend's wallet. [Editor´s note: Ok, yes this was the lamest way to approach a pickpocketer but in my defense this all happened very fast and I had never been pickpocketed before]. The guy didn't answer. Apparently asking for a wallet was not very intimidating. But I guess I looked pathetic enough because suddenly this long-haired, bearded man grabbed the thief by the collar and pulled him back onto the car. Without letting go of the greasy little rat´s shirt, our knight-in-shining-leather (he was wearing a leather coat) started to yell at the thief and kept asking him where he put our wallet. The whole time this was going on the metro was at a standstill (remember this for later).
Another passenger on the metro began to shout and pointed to just outside the car door where the thief´s hands had escaped without the rest of his body. There, lying on the tiled floor of the metro station was Marissa´s leather wallet! The passenger handed me the wallet and I went back to our corner to give it to Marissa. In the mean time, the short rat (the thief) escaped from our knight and lunged for the still-open door. But he was no match for our hero. (I´m just going to name this guy Knight for the rest of the story, ok? And let´s just go ahead and name the thief Sotu [scum of the universe]).
Knight grabbed the rat again and yelled (in Spanish), "No! You are going to the police." Well, suddenly a random man (we will call him Jorge) standing outside of the metro car grabbed Sotu out of the hands of Knight and said that he would take over from there. Knight would not have this. (I think he thought that Jorge was Sotu´s friend and was simply going to help him escape). Yelling, "No! Police!" once again, Knight played tug-of-war with Jorge for the posession of Sotu. Looking back on this moment, I realize just how bizarre of an experience it was. Two grown men were standing on and off of a metro car in Barcelona fighting for the possession of a greasy, little man.
Anyways, Jorge eventually let go and pulled out a police badge! Apparently Barcelona has undercover cops stroll the metro systems looking for pickpocketers. Well, this was good enough for Knight and he let Sotu go. Jorge also wanted to speak with Marissa and the rest of us about the whole incident so the four of us got off of the still-stalled metro car and waited to be questioned. Looking up and down the metro station I could see dozens of Barcelonians peeking their heads out of the other metro car doors, straining to see what had happened and why they had not moved on to their next destination. When the metro finally left, it seemed like everyone was looking at me, the other girls, Jorge and Sotu...so much for a low-key trip.
While Sotu went with Jorge´s partner to sit on a bench with the man who had burst my bubble in the metro ride (I don´t know how he was caught) Marissa searched through her purse to make sure that Sotu hadn´t taken anything else. All of her money and cards were where they should have been. But wait, the cell phone that had been in her zipped up coat pocket was missing. Jorge instructed his partner to search Sotu´s pocket and sure enough the slime ball had used his greasy hands to snatch away Marissa´s phone! Not only that, but Jorge brought over two other cell phones to make sure that they didn´t belong to any of us. They didn´t. I guess Sotu and his pal had been at it for awhile.
In the end, we got to the Grand Palace and the Olympic Stadium (where there was no light show) unharmed and much wiser. I learned that when approaching a pickpocketer it is better to grab him by the scruff and scream in his face than to pull on his shirt and sternly question his motives. Sotu, on the other hand, learned what it was like to be booked for petty theft.
The only thing that I really regret is that I never got a chance to thank Knight. We were all still in shock when we walked off of the metro that I don´t think any of us really got a chance to properly express our gratitude. So Knight, I seriously doubt that you are actually going to read this but, thank you! You saved the day. And while I´m sure that I had the pickpocketer trembling in fear, I don´t think that everything would have worked out quite as well without you.
P.S. Moment of irony. When we got back on the Metro to go to dinner a woman stopped us as we were walking in the station and warned us to watch our bags tonight because they might get stolen. The universe has a very sick sense of humor.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Marbella or Bust
You know that scene in Sandlot where the boys stupidly chew tobacco only to throw it up on the tilt-a-whirl a few minutes later? (Pretty picture, yes.) Well minus the tobacco, I had a somewhat similar experience this past weekend. On Saturday, three of the girls in my program and I hopped on a bus to go to the seaside town of Marbella. We had heard that it was a little touristy but that it had great beaches, shops, restaurants and was just a cool place to relax. It was raining when we left but we all figured that we could live without the beach and just explore the city.
Turns out the road to Marbella is very mountainous and swirly. Combine that with a lead-footed driver and a late night and you can only imagine the trouble we were getting ourselves into. Veronica was the first to strike. Luckily for her some of our host moms had packed us all a lunch earlier that day and she was able to grab one of the sacks right before she ralphed. Unfortunately, the first time would not be Veronica’s last. The drive there lasted a little over an hour and she was sick for most of it. Between the tight turns, warm bus and the sweet, melodic tunes of Veronica on repeat, I began to feel a little ill myself. At one point I was even tempted to pull a trick my Mom taught me when I was wee little one and steal Veronica’s bag for personal use. Love you Mom.
But my will to not get sick on the bus carried me through the whole ordeal and I arrived to Marbella with all of my breakfast. Then I stood up. This was a mistake. I ran into the bathroom and well, started playing melodic tunes of my own. After rocking out, I tried to open my stall door to leave but the stupid thing wouldn’t budge. The lock was apparently rusted and by using it, I had sealed myself in. I pushed and pulled but it wasn’t until one of the other girls came and kicked/punched the door that the seal budged enough for me to escape.
A few pounds lighter, we all purchased tickets to take us to the shopping/beachy center of the city. But after about an hour into the drive we began to get suspicious that we might have made a mistake in choosing buses. Our suspicions were confirmed when we saw a sign that read: Bienvenidos a Estepona. We had booked a ticket to another city. Whoops! I guess I need to work on my pronunciation skills. Well the city we booked wasn’t all that bad. We found a pizzeria that hadn’t been shut down for the siesta and took a break from the wind and rain to dine on Italian food in Spain. After that we walked around this accidental city for a while before heading back to Marbella. I don’t think I have mentioned this yet, but the weather in Spain has been crazy. It’s not cold but has rained nearly every day. I mention this only because the ocean waves were gigantic! Flooding is also a big problem right now and the beaches are proof. They were completely buried beneath salt water and debris.
After exploring a bit, we made our way back to Marbella and went to some stores to not buy anything. Eventually, it was time to go back home to Ronda. We left the city of Marbella much wiser and better prepared for the ride home.
P.S. I passed my test and will not be voted off the island.
Turns out the road to Marbella is very mountainous and swirly. Combine that with a lead-footed driver and a late night and you can only imagine the trouble we were getting ourselves into. Veronica was the first to strike. Luckily for her some of our host moms had packed us all a lunch earlier that day and she was able to grab one of the sacks right before she ralphed. Unfortunately, the first time would not be Veronica’s last. The drive there lasted a little over an hour and she was sick for most of it. Between the tight turns, warm bus and the sweet, melodic tunes of Veronica on repeat, I began to feel a little ill myself. At one point I was even tempted to pull a trick my Mom taught me when I was wee little one and steal Veronica’s bag for personal use. Love you Mom.
But my will to not get sick on the bus carried me through the whole ordeal and I arrived to Marbella with all of my breakfast. Then I stood up. This was a mistake. I ran into the bathroom and well, started playing melodic tunes of my own. After rocking out, I tried to open my stall door to leave but the stupid thing wouldn’t budge. The lock was apparently rusted and by using it, I had sealed myself in. I pushed and pulled but it wasn’t until one of the other girls came and kicked/punched the door that the seal budged enough for me to escape.
A few pounds lighter, we all purchased tickets to take us to the shopping/beachy center of the city. But after about an hour into the drive we began to get suspicious that we might have made a mistake in choosing buses. Our suspicions were confirmed when we saw a sign that read: Bienvenidos a Estepona. We had booked a ticket to another city. Whoops! I guess I need to work on my pronunciation skills. Well the city we booked wasn’t all that bad. We found a pizzeria that hadn’t been shut down for the siesta and took a break from the wind and rain to dine on Italian food in Spain. After that we walked around this accidental city for a while before heading back to Marbella. I don’t think I have mentioned this yet, but the weather in Spain has been crazy. It’s not cold but has rained nearly every day. I mention this only because the ocean waves were gigantic! Flooding is also a big problem right now and the beaches are proof. They were completely buried beneath salt water and debris.
After exploring a bit, we made our way back to Marbella and went to some stores to not buy anything. Eventually, it was time to go back home to Ronda. We left the city of Marbella much wiser and better prepared for the ride home.
P.S. I passed my test and will not be voted off the island.
Monday, March 1, 2010
The Perez You Never Knew
Before I talk about this week, I must enlighten you all on a cultural phenomenon I recently discovered about Spain. As you know, in the US, when a kid loses a tooth he will place it under his pillow and wait for the tooth fairy to come and trade the pearly white for a green Washington. When a Spanish kid loses a tooth, he too places it under his pillow and awakens the next morning to find a higher-valued Euro tucked beneath his head. But this delivery is not carried out by a fairy. No, Spanish kids are brought up to believe that when they lose a tooth they are visited by Perez, the magical rat. I kid you not. While a child sleeps the orphaned, magical rat Perez creeps onto their bed and shuffles up to the pillow where he can make the exchange. Everyone apparently has a different idea of what this special creature looks like. Some people say that he is an albino who wears a cute suit while others like my teacher, Elyse, prefer to think of Perez as being “desnudo.” When we told Elyse that Americans believe a fairy comes to deliver the money she could only sigh and say, “Yes. It’s much prettier.”
On that note: last Saturday my school had an official excursion to Sevilla where we got to see the sights and enjoy a warm, sunny day. It was awesome. The whole place was filled with college students and had so many orange trees that our tour guide joked about how, in the Spring, it practically rains fruit in Sevilla. I personally thought this was more cool than humorous. Our tour lasted about three hours and took us on a walk through the beautiful royal gardens and into an old, Islamic palace. Everyone agreed though that their favorite part was the city’s giant
cathedral. And when I say giant, I mean giant. The guide said that when measured a certain way it is the largest cathedral in the world. It also happens to be where Christopher Columbus is buried. That’s right the small-pox bearing man himself was laid to rest in the cathedral that I got to see. The cathedral also has a tower that you can walk up and look out over the city below. When the tour came to an end, we all had about three hours left in Sevilla and decided to use that time to explore a bit. We saw markets, street performers, countless little parks and stumbled upon several mini-city/squares hidden from the main area of the city. When we loaded the bus I thought that the day had given us all a good taste of the city. Taste is the key word there. I want to go back.
In addition to Sevilla, this week also presented me with the opportunity to embrace my inner euroweenie. Yes, I’ve gone local and bought a pair of boots and leggings. Fear not, they were both on sale. After a round of tapas, some of my friends and I also went to the movie theater to watch the “Percy Jackson” flick. Surprisingly, I found that I could understand most of it…I guess that means I’m learning something! At least I’m hoping that this is the case. Today we all took our first test and it was not very fun. But we got to take part of the day off and hiked into the tajo (gorge) and soaked in some of that sweet Spanish sun.
P.S. Congrats to the KU basketball team! Big 12 Regular Season Champs what, what…
On that note: last Saturday my school had an official excursion to Sevilla where we got to see the sights and enjoy a warm, sunny day. It was awesome. The whole place was filled with college students and had so many orange trees that our tour guide joked about how, in the Spring, it practically rains fruit in Sevilla. I personally thought this was more cool than humorous. Our tour lasted about three hours and took us on a walk through the beautiful royal gardens and into an old, Islamic palace. Everyone agreed though that their favorite part was the city’s giant
cathedral. And when I say giant, I mean giant. The guide said that when measured a certain way it is the largest cathedral in the world. It also happens to be where Christopher Columbus is buried. That’s right the small-pox bearing man himself was laid to rest in the cathedral that I got to see. The cathedral also has a tower that you can walk up and look out over the city below. When the tour came to an end, we all had about three hours left in Sevilla and decided to use that time to explore a bit. We saw markets, street performers, countless little parks and stumbled upon several mini-city/squares hidden from the main area of the city. When we loaded the bus I thought that the day had given us all a good taste of the city. Taste is the key word there. I want to go back.
In addition to Sevilla, this week also presented me with the opportunity to embrace my inner euroweenie. Yes, I’ve gone local and bought a pair of boots and leggings. Fear not, they were both on sale. After a round of tapas, some of my friends and I also went to the movie theater to watch the “Percy Jackson” flick. Surprisingly, I found that I could understand most of it…I guess that means I’m learning something! At least I’m hoping that this is the case. Today we all took our first test and it was not very fun. But we got to take part of the day off and hiked into the tajo (gorge) and soaked in some of that sweet Spanish sun.
P.S. Congrats to the KU basketball team! Big 12 Regular Season Champs what, what…
Friday, February 19, 2010
Carnaval
Well, Cadiz was interesting. Picture with me if you will KU´s NCAA basketball championship celebration. Now, mix that with Halloween and some crack cocaine and then I think you´ll get the idea of how crazy Carnaval really was. It all started on Saturday when about 15 of us got on a bus at 1:30 p.m. in Ronda. We had heard that it was pointless/impossible to get a hotel room in Cadiz during Carnaval so we hadn´t bothered with getting a reservation...you can see where this is going, can´t you. Our plan was to get there around 4 p.m or so and stay up all night until our bus ride home the next morning at 9 a.m.
The ride there was very relaxed. We were all semi-dressed-up in our costumes and the number of young people heading to Cadiz only grew as we went along. After a few hours we arrived. Like every other city in Spain, Cadiz was beautiful. It had great beaches, the weather was NOT 20 degrees as our teacher had predicted and it was filled with tiny alleys that all looked like my version of Diagon Alley in Harry Potter. Getting off of the bus, we were surrouned by people in costumes. I believe the most popular were: men in drag, men as babies, Avatars, hippies and power rangers. We didn´t actually know where to go so we just followed these crazies away from the station into the center of the city.
In the main square there was a giant stage set up for a competition for Miss Carnaval. Amazingly enough, this actually proved to be one of the highlights. It had women from spanish-speaking countries all over the world do a quick, one minute traditional dance and then give a quick speech (none of us could understand them). In a shocking turn of events, Miss. Cadiz won and then cried.
After the competition, the rest of the night was utter chaos. There were so many people! We were litterally running through the streets trying to find either one another or one of the many bands to dance to. It was really fun! Eventually we all ended up in separate groups with mine venturing away from the city´s center to go to the beach. So at about 4 a.m. me and three of my friends had the beach all to ourselves. What did we do? We went swimming! And, yes, it was cold. But how many times can you say that you swam at 4 in the morning in the south of Spain during Carnaval?
After the beach we headed over to the train station to wait with the rest of our group in a warm, dry spot.
I feel like I´ve already gone on too long so I won´t bore you all with the details but the train station was intense. I guess word had gotten out that you could wait there for free so everyone and there mother was trying to get in. I felt like a passenger on the Titanic and I think my friend Abbie was thinking the same thing because in the middle of the shoving and pushing she screamed, "women and children first!" In the end we, along with everyone else, were kicked out of the train station. So we ventured over to the bus station (why we weren´t here first I couldn´t really tell you).
This too looked like a scene out of Titanic. Everyone there was cold and hurting and you could tell. To make matters worse, there were a few revelers who had not come down from the excitement of Carnaval and were going around playing their plastic guitars and singing some sort of football song. I just remember thanking the Carnaval gods that these blokes were not going to be on my bus.
After several cold and uncomfortable hours, our bus finally arrived. We all got in line to board when suddenly from across the way we see the same band of revelers who had kept everyone up in the station. They were on our bus! And did they stop singing anytime on the ride back? No. Were they just as obnoxious on the bus as they were in the station? God, yes. Thankfully most of their attention was turned towards a middle aged man who pleasantly let eveyone know that he had had a good time at Carnaval when he started running up and down the bus and conducting everyone with his toothbrush.
All-in-all I´m glad that I went to Cadiz. It wasn´t all pretty (two of my friends got pickpocketed) but for me, it really was a once in a lifetime experience and I feel like I did it right.
The ride there was very relaxed. We were all semi-dressed-up in our costumes and the number of young people heading to Cadiz only grew as we went along. After a few hours we arrived. Like every other city in Spain, Cadiz was beautiful. It had great beaches, the weather was NOT 20 degrees as our teacher had predicted and it was filled with tiny alleys that all looked like my version of Diagon Alley in Harry Potter. Getting off of the bus, we were surrouned by people in costumes. I believe the most popular were: men in drag, men as babies, Avatars, hippies and power rangers. We didn´t actually know where to go so we just followed these crazies away from the station into the center of the city.
In the main square there was a giant stage set up for a competition for Miss Carnaval. Amazingly enough, this actually proved to be one of the highlights. It had women from spanish-speaking countries all over the world do a quick, one minute traditional dance and then give a quick speech (none of us could understand them). In a shocking turn of events, Miss. Cadiz won and then cried.
After the competition, the rest of the night was utter chaos. There were so many people! We were litterally running through the streets trying to find either one another or one of the many bands to dance to. It was really fun! Eventually we all ended up in separate groups with mine venturing away from the city´s center to go to the beach. So at about 4 a.m. me and three of my friends had the beach all to ourselves. What did we do? We went swimming! And, yes, it was cold. But how many times can you say that you swam at 4 in the morning in the south of Spain during Carnaval?
After the beach we headed over to the train station to wait with the rest of our group in a warm, dry spot.
I feel like I´ve already gone on too long so I won´t bore you all with the details but the train station was intense. I guess word had gotten out that you could wait there for free so everyone and there mother was trying to get in. I felt like a passenger on the Titanic and I think my friend Abbie was thinking the same thing because in the middle of the shoving and pushing she screamed, "women and children first!" In the end we, along with everyone else, were kicked out of the train station. So we ventured over to the bus station (why we weren´t here first I couldn´t really tell you).
This too looked like a scene out of Titanic. Everyone there was cold and hurting and you could tell. To make matters worse, there were a few revelers who had not come down from the excitement of Carnaval and were going around playing their plastic guitars and singing some sort of football song. I just remember thanking the Carnaval gods that these blokes were not going to be on my bus.
After several cold and uncomfortable hours, our bus finally arrived. We all got in line to board when suddenly from across the way we see the same band of revelers who had kept everyone up in the station. They were on our bus! And did they stop singing anytime on the ride back? No. Were they just as obnoxious on the bus as they were in the station? God, yes. Thankfully most of their attention was turned towards a middle aged man who pleasantly let eveyone know that he had had a good time at Carnaval when he started running up and down the bus and conducting everyone with his toothbrush.
All-in-all I´m glad that I went to Cadiz. It wasn´t all pretty (two of my friends got pickpocketed) but for me, it really was a once in a lifetime experience and I feel like I did it right.
Friday, February 12, 2010
Pre Cadiz
So far so good this week...no trees. Tomorrow my new friends and I will be heading to Cadiz, Spain for the annual Carnaval celebration. It´s a beautiful city and was even the cite of Halle Berry´s infamous James Bond beach scene. This time of year the beaches are pretty deserted, but Carnaval brings in droves of people from all over the world. (Don´t worry parentals, I shall stay clear of any and all Albanians). Everyone is dressing up for the affair. We have the band members from Kiss, two Jamaicans and plenty of cowboys and indians (I fall into the latter category). Adding even more interest to this blessed event is the fact that it is supposed to be 20 degrees fahrenheit. But we´re all genuinely excited to see what lies in store for us there.
Aside from Cadiz, this week I got to experience more of what Ronda has to offer. On Tuesday I went to a free flamenco dance class where I was reminded of the fact that I can´t dance. But I did get really good at rotating my wrists and snapping in unison! A big group of us also went down to explore the gorge. It was pretty darn cool. There were several abandoned houses that we all decided had been a part of an old electric company that was once based in Ronda. I was very proud of myself in that I found an opening to the basement of one of the houses and went downt to explore it and its horror-movie-like qualities.
Wednesday was a bit rough. After taking a nap, I HAD to go out and eat tapas for one of my culture classes. I was served delicious salmon rolls, mini hamburgers, sandwiches and skewered chicken. All of this was unfortuately paid for by KU. The torture continued only today in class when my teachers took everyone out for churros and coffee in the morning and played a Craniumish game the rest of the time. I´m afraid of what next week will bring.
Other things worth mentioning:
-Superbowl/soccer: Last Sunday we all went out at 12 a.m. to our favorite American bar, Huskies. The atmosphere in the bar was a bit more subdued than it had been the night earlier with the Real Madrid soccer game, but we all still had a blast. I picked the Saints to win and in doing so won two free drinks from my pals. Thank you Saints!
-Discotech: When I heard that there was a discotech in Ronda, I immediately pictured a room full of crazy dancers bopping around to techno music. So you can imagine my surprise when I went there and discovered that the European version of dancing is to stand in place and bend your knees up and down. Now, as you know I am not the biggest dancer, but you will be proud to know that your American brotherin held our own that night and went crazy on the dance floor. This led to several stares and a friend of mine getting licked in the face (she has since recovered) but all in all it was fantastic.
-My clumsyness has reached a new level here. I have: rammed into an old man on the bridge, slapped a woman in the face (I was trying to point out the odd birds) and of course, tripped countless times. Keep you posted.
Aside from Cadiz, this week I got to experience more of what Ronda has to offer. On Tuesday I went to a free flamenco dance class where I was reminded of the fact that I can´t dance. But I did get really good at rotating my wrists and snapping in unison! A big group of us also went down to explore the gorge. It was pretty darn cool. There were several abandoned houses that we all decided had been a part of an old electric company that was once based in Ronda. I was very proud of myself in that I found an opening to the basement of one of the houses and went downt to explore it and its horror-movie-like qualities.
Wednesday was a bit rough. After taking a nap, I HAD to go out and eat tapas for one of my culture classes. I was served delicious salmon rolls, mini hamburgers, sandwiches and skewered chicken. All of this was unfortuately paid for by KU. The torture continued only today in class when my teachers took everyone out for churros and coffee in the morning and played a Craniumish game the rest of the time. I´m afraid of what next week will bring.
Other things worth mentioning:
-Superbowl/soccer: Last Sunday we all went out at 12 a.m. to our favorite American bar, Huskies. The atmosphere in the bar was a bit more subdued than it had been the night earlier with the Real Madrid soccer game, but we all still had a blast. I picked the Saints to win and in doing so won two free drinks from my pals. Thank you Saints!
-Discotech: When I heard that there was a discotech in Ronda, I immediately pictured a room full of crazy dancers bopping around to techno music. So you can imagine my surprise when I went there and discovered that the European version of dancing is to stand in place and bend your knees up and down. Now, as you know I am not the biggest dancer, but you will be proud to know that your American brotherin held our own that night and went crazy on the dance floor. This led to several stares and a friend of mine getting licked in the face (she has since recovered) but all in all it was fantastic.
-My clumsyness has reached a new level here. I have: rammed into an old man on the bridge, slapped a woman in the face (I was trying to point out the odd birds) and of course, tripped countless times. Keep you posted.
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
An Overdue Update
Hey everyone! I have now been in Ronda for a little over a week and already have so much to tell you. First of all, the city is absolutely gorgeous. The streets are cobbled, the stores are chic and the views are better than you can imagine. Every morning I walk across the Puente Nuevo Bridge to get to my school. Of course, being the curious individual that I am, I always have to stop and look down at the giant gorge below. From this sometimes-awkward perspective, I not only see the canyon, but the miles of green countryside and giant mountains surrounding Ronda.
On weekdays I attend school from 9-2. This includes an hour “snack” break when we are encouraged to go to the local coffee shops and get some café or a sandwich. Oh, and did I mention that my school is a former Islamic palace? Well, it is. From my classroom I can see a horse and sheep farm, groves of olive trees and a water park in the distance. Two out of three isn’t bad. My teachers are Carmen and Ana and they are absolutely fantastic. Spunky and confident, they really make you want to learn Spanish. Every day we start off learning grammar and going over culture, but by the end of it we’re usually learning how to order beers or deny someone our phone numbers. That’s another thing; I get the idea that our teachers want us to go out until the ungodly hours in the morning. Case in point, last Thursday my school had an official “Welcome to Ronda Party” at a local tapas bar. While the party began in one place, by then end of the night, we had moved on to another bar and a discotech. I did not get home until 5 a.m.. But when we got to school at 9, the teachers said that they thought we were all too tired and put on a movie. Boy, did that sure teach us a lesson.
But of course, not everything has gone smoothly. After only a few days of staying in Ronda, I officially topped my awkward moments chart. This is a lot considering my history. But alas, it is true. So what is this story you might ask. Well, one day, after a brief siesta, I got bored and decided to go for a walk. It was around seven or so and I had about three hours to kill until dinner. (Eating here is crazy, I know). So I decided to walk to the park to look at my favorite views. When I got there, I noticed a hidden path in the corner of the park that I had never seen before. Now, this path was blocked by a gate and while the gate was not completely closed, it had ropes and caution-like tape draped across the opening that all but screamed, “keep out”. But I thought, what the heck, I’m in Spain. So I snuck through the ropes and began to walk down the path. For awhile it was great. The trail had beautiful views and it was kind of nice to be by myself. After walking for a little bit longer, I found a bench and sat down to be Yoda-like and relax. Only a few minutes after sitting down though, I heard some security sirens in the background and being the semi-paranoid person that I am, I thought, Oh no, the park’s security guard is going to catch me trespassing on this stupid trail and get me kicked me out of my study abroad program. Really, I don’t know why I thought this. So, I decided to get up and make my way towards the trail’s entrance. But suddenly, I began to hear voices and footsteps coming from the direction of the entrance. And what did I do? Did I keep my cool and simply walk out like nothing had happened? No. I panicked and bolted the opposite direction. So here I was, a blonde American girl who had only been in Spain for three days, running down the path away from the entrance and some security guard who I for some reason thought wanted to kick me out of my program. I rounded a corner and finally saw my way out: a massive, iron gate. But when I ran over to open it, my hopes of escape were dashed in the form of a giant padlock.
I could hear the footsteps getting closer and started to panic. So, in a last minute attempt to save myself, I leaped behind a pine tree to wait for the guard to pass. After a few minutes, the culprit I had been running from rounded the corner and walked towards me. It didn’t take too long for me to see that it was not the security guard. Peering out from my branched haven, I made out three young men as they walked by me and sat down to partake in some illegal inhalants. Now, I would like to say that I thought long and hard about just jumping out of that tree and walking away but for some very good reasons I decided to stay. First of all, it was starting to get dark and they weren’t exactly the nicest looking lads on the block. Secondly, Ronda is a small city. If I suddenly appeared from outside of a tree I would be known as that creepy blonde girl who watches people from shrubberies. So I waited for them to leave. And waited. And waited. I waited for an hour. By the time they finished doing their thing it was completely dark and I was freezing. Finally, they all got up and started to walk away and I thought I was out of the woods…ha! But of course, fate had different plans for me. I swear, the moment they rounded that corner, one of their cell phones went off. While my Spanish isn’t perfect, I knew enough to make out “birthday” and “bring wine.” Then they stayed where they were to wait for their friends to bring alcohol and have some big party. I was stuck in my tree. While they couldn’t see me anymore, they were still blocking my only way home. So, I decided to take action. Keeping an eye on the corner, I walked over to the padlocked gate. Looking at it, I knew that there was no way I could scale the thing; it was way too tall. But I noticed that there was a ledge on the side that was only a bit taller than me. I thought that maybe, if I got up onto the ledge, I could scale the gate and achieve my freedom. It sounded like a good idea, but I was also desperate. Either way, I swung one of my legs up onto the ledge and used the gate’s iron bars for support as I hoisted myself up. Unfortunately, even from this height there was no way that I could scale the gate. But I noticed a small opening at the top of the ledge that led into someone’s yard. It wouldn’t get me into the street, but it would get me out of the park. Thus, climbing over barbed wire and ripping my pants in the process, I made my way into some poor stranger’s yard.
Looking around I realized that I was still stuck. The yard I had jumped into was gated and had no access to the street. The only way for me to go was up. I went over to the side of this person’s house and, using the fence for support, hoisted myself up onto their roof. I swear, I am no lying. Slithering across the roof, I inched my way towards the street until I could finally see the sidewalk. This was all done while ducking my head as other people walked by. When the coast was clear, I used yet another barbwired-gate to lower myself to freedom! I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy in my entire life. When I got back to my house, my host mom Carmen was a bit curious about the branches sticking out of my hair and the giant tear in my pants...but thankfully she didn't really seem to want to know.
So anyways, that is one of the many stories I have acquired while here in Ronda. Hopefully, the rest of them will not be quite as ridiculous but you never really know. Miss you all!
On weekdays I attend school from 9-2. This includes an hour “snack” break when we are encouraged to go to the local coffee shops and get some café or a sandwich. Oh, and did I mention that my school is a former Islamic palace? Well, it is. From my classroom I can see a horse and sheep farm, groves of olive trees and a water park in the distance. Two out of three isn’t bad. My teachers are Carmen and Ana and they are absolutely fantastic. Spunky and confident, they really make you want to learn Spanish. Every day we start off learning grammar and going over culture, but by the end of it we’re usually learning how to order beers or deny someone our phone numbers. That’s another thing; I get the idea that our teachers want us to go out until the ungodly hours in the morning. Case in point, last Thursday my school had an official “Welcome to Ronda Party” at a local tapas bar. While the party began in one place, by then end of the night, we had moved on to another bar and a discotech. I did not get home until 5 a.m.. But when we got to school at 9, the teachers said that they thought we were all too tired and put on a movie. Boy, did that sure teach us a lesson.
But of course, not everything has gone smoothly. After only a few days of staying in Ronda, I officially topped my awkward moments chart. This is a lot considering my history. But alas, it is true. So what is this story you might ask. Well, one day, after a brief siesta, I got bored and decided to go for a walk. It was around seven or so and I had about three hours to kill until dinner. (Eating here is crazy, I know). So I decided to walk to the park to look at my favorite views. When I got there, I noticed a hidden path in the corner of the park that I had never seen before. Now, this path was blocked by a gate and while the gate was not completely closed, it had ropes and caution-like tape draped across the opening that all but screamed, “keep out”. But I thought, what the heck, I’m in Spain. So I snuck through the ropes and began to walk down the path. For awhile it was great. The trail had beautiful views and it was kind of nice to be by myself. After walking for a little bit longer, I found a bench and sat down to be Yoda-like and relax. Only a few minutes after sitting down though, I heard some security sirens in the background and being the semi-paranoid person that I am, I thought, Oh no, the park’s security guard is going to catch me trespassing on this stupid trail and get me kicked me out of my study abroad program. Really, I don’t know why I thought this. So, I decided to get up and make my way towards the trail’s entrance. But suddenly, I began to hear voices and footsteps coming from the direction of the entrance. And what did I do? Did I keep my cool and simply walk out like nothing had happened? No. I panicked and bolted the opposite direction. So here I was, a blonde American girl who had only been in Spain for three days, running down the path away from the entrance and some security guard who I for some reason thought wanted to kick me out of my program. I rounded a corner and finally saw my way out: a massive, iron gate. But when I ran over to open it, my hopes of escape were dashed in the form of a giant padlock.
I could hear the footsteps getting closer and started to panic. So, in a last minute attempt to save myself, I leaped behind a pine tree to wait for the guard to pass. After a few minutes, the culprit I had been running from rounded the corner and walked towards me. It didn’t take too long for me to see that it was not the security guard. Peering out from my branched haven, I made out three young men as they walked by me and sat down to partake in some illegal inhalants. Now, I would like to say that I thought long and hard about just jumping out of that tree and walking away but for some very good reasons I decided to stay. First of all, it was starting to get dark and they weren’t exactly the nicest looking lads on the block. Secondly, Ronda is a small city. If I suddenly appeared from outside of a tree I would be known as that creepy blonde girl who watches people from shrubberies. So I waited for them to leave. And waited. And waited. I waited for an hour. By the time they finished doing their thing it was completely dark and I was freezing. Finally, they all got up and started to walk away and I thought I was out of the woods…ha! But of course, fate had different plans for me. I swear, the moment they rounded that corner, one of their cell phones went off. While my Spanish isn’t perfect, I knew enough to make out “birthday” and “bring wine.” Then they stayed where they were to wait for their friends to bring alcohol and have some big party. I was stuck in my tree. While they couldn’t see me anymore, they were still blocking my only way home. So, I decided to take action. Keeping an eye on the corner, I walked over to the padlocked gate. Looking at it, I knew that there was no way I could scale the thing; it was way too tall. But I noticed that there was a ledge on the side that was only a bit taller than me. I thought that maybe, if I got up onto the ledge, I could scale the gate and achieve my freedom. It sounded like a good idea, but I was also desperate. Either way, I swung one of my legs up onto the ledge and used the gate’s iron bars for support as I hoisted myself up. Unfortunately, even from this height there was no way that I could scale the gate. But I noticed a small opening at the top of the ledge that led into someone’s yard. It wouldn’t get me into the street, but it would get me out of the park. Thus, climbing over barbed wire and ripping my pants in the process, I made my way into some poor stranger’s yard.
Looking around I realized that I was still stuck. The yard I had jumped into was gated and had no access to the street. The only way for me to go was up. I went over to the side of this person’s house and, using the fence for support, hoisted myself up onto their roof. I swear, I am no lying. Slithering across the roof, I inched my way towards the street until I could finally see the sidewalk. This was all done while ducking my head as other people walked by. When the coast was clear, I used yet another barbwired-gate to lower myself to freedom! I don’t think I’ve ever been so happy in my entire life. When I got back to my house, my host mom Carmen was a bit curious about the branches sticking out of my hair and the giant tear in my pants...but thankfully she didn't really seem to want to know.
So anyways, that is one of the many stories I have acquired while here in Ronda. Hopefully, the rest of them will not be quite as ridiculous but you never really know. Miss you all!
Monday, February 1, 2010
Tour of Ronda
Today is a big day for me. After approximately 72 hours, I am finally changing my clothes for the first time! Now, you might be thinking, geez Kelly, that´s absolutely disgusting. Well, you´re right. But I would like to argue that it´s not my fault. You see, when I got on a plane headed to Barcelona, my suitcases decided to forgo the spanish lisp and instead went to Amsterdam. But all is well now. I just finished taking a tour of Ronda with my new classmates and it is gorgeous! The main bridge you see when you google image the city is "moderno" but was built hundreds of years ago. The tour guide said that while it´s not proven, there are some scholars who believe that that bridge and Ronda are featured in, For Whom the Bell Tolls. After seeing the city, I´d say it´s worth mentioning in a book. The streets are all lined with orange trees and there is a park at the end of my block that has palm trees and beautiful views of the cliffs. One of the host mothers said that when it gets warmer students from the music conservatory come out and play free concerts in the park. The city also has a bull ring. If I heard right, the tour guide said that it is one of the oldest, if not the oldest, bull ring in Spain. As far as my classmates go, so far so good. All of them seem to be very nice and I really like the ones from KU. In fact, in about 30 minutes we´re all meeting at the town´s plaza to hang out until dinner time (10 p.m). Apparently the plaza is quite the spot for students. After dinner they go out until 3 or 5 a.m. (I´m not so sure how long I´ll keep up with that routine). My host mother Carmen is very nice. I wasn´t sure how we would get along in the beginning but I think we´re starting to figure each other out. Tomorrow I start school for real. Fingers crossed! I miss you all very much.
Thursday, January 28, 2010
Pre-Departure
Tomorrow (mañana) I will leave the land of KU basketball and wheat for a country that celebrates soccer and takes long, midday naps. That’s right, I’m going to Spain. Ronda, Spain to be more precise. It’s a small city in Andalucia that is home to about 40,000 people and I’m going to live there for four months. I don’t actually know that much about it other than the fact that it has a giant “chasm” running through it--which, let’s face it, is all a girl could really ask for. I’m set up to live with a woman named Carmen. Like Ronda, I don’t know much about Carmen. But in a terrifying turn of events, she has seen my photo and knows all about my likes and dislikes. More on whether or not she decides to pick me up later.
The one thing I do know about Carmen is that she has five grown kids which screams two things: she’s well-versed in child-rearing and Catholic. Overall, I’m thinking this should bode well for me in that my mother was raised Catholic and my father is one of five kids. But Carmen aside, I would be lying if I said I wasn’t nervous about leaving Kansas. I’ve been planning my study abroad experience since I was in high school and I’m much more comfortable with the idea of Spain than with the reality. But I know that I’d kick myself if I didn’t go. So, I’m taking the plunge and leaving behind great friends, a great family and the city I’ve lived in for 21 years to start a fabulous adventure. I’ll do my best to update this here blog but you all must return the favor and update me with the score of the KU basketball game! Te hablo luego!
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