A Perfectly Spanish Weekend

A Warning: This is quite a long entry, perhaps to compensate for my horrible post about Granada.

This weekend was action-packed, and was Spanish in every way: wine by the river, new Spanish friends, ironic gifts, getting lost, general chaos, fútbol, pastries in the plaza, “Se llama copla” and, of course, lots of smoke.

On Friday I ventured with a friend to the Estadio Ramon Sanchez-Pizjuan, the home of the Sevilla Fútbol Club, to buy eight tickets to Saturday’s game. Somehow, we made it to the stadium taking a number of different buses, magically ending up where we needed to be. We nervously approached the ticket counter and got our tickets, and headed on our way home, taking a series of different buses. We were in fact, feeling pretty proud of ourselves for making it to the stadium, buying our tickets, and making it home without incident.

After arriving home and having dinner with my Señora, her cousin, and the cousin’s 2 ½ year old son (who recited the colors to me in English), I headed out to meet my friends from Granada that were visiting for the weekend, and we sat by the river and shared Señora stories, travel plans, and other random adventures.

Saturday I woke up at 7:30, ready to head out to a National Park in the region of Huelva to plant trees with my Ecology Interest Group. The four of us Americans met up with our Interest Group Leader and over 60 other Spaniards, we were certainly the minorities. My leader will also be a professor for one of my classes, so I better like him. Upon arriving at the site, we were given mini-backpacks complete with our lunches, a can of hairspray, a can of hair mousse, and hair gel. The four of us laughed at this extremely random gift, here we were on an environmental project, being given aerosol sprays. When we asked why we were given these ironic gifts, we were told that the hair product company was the sponsor. This demonstrates that a lot of times in Spain things are one step forward and two steps back (also witnessed by the hoards of Spaniards smoking in a National Park, their cigarettes littering the countryside).

Before we could even begin planting, we were taken on a little tour of a very small section of the area we would be working on, where we were primarily shown invasive species. At one point the head of the tour yelled, “This is our enemy, attack!” (in Spanish of course) and started pulling of branches. To my surprise, the group actually charged the bushes, breaking branches, stumps, and felling trees. This was of course, doing more harm than good as they were leaving the roots intact, but I think it was supposed to be more symbolic, plus, it gave us Americans something to laugh about (this was supposed to be reforestation, not deforestation).

Once planting began we were paired up with other Spaniards (I was with my Professor) and we worked on planting trees throughout the area. It was pretty impressive to look around and see so many people busily working, although at the end there were more people smoking than working. After our hard work, we headed out to the Pine Forest, a picnic area (complete with bar) that is very similar to an American park, to eat our lunches. We ate with one of our new Spanish friends, a guy that is going to start his first job on Monday working for the National Park we were at. We once again shared laughs about the hair products (he thought it was just as ridiculous as we did), and enjoyed a nice day in the sun.

After a long day of hard work and new friends, I headed home with another new Spanish friend to prepare for what was sure to be a fantastic evening of fútbol, stopping along the way at a plaza to get a pastry and people watch.

My Señora was just excited as I was that I was going to the game, and had even lent me her son’s Sevilla scarf to wear to the game. My group met up and eagerly started our journey to the stadium. Remember however, how my friend and I were feeling proud for conquering the Spanish transportation system? Well, I guess pride got the best of us. After getting lost in Sevilla (par for the course by now, we spend ¾ of our time here lost) and taking numerous buses, we finally found our way to the stadium where the celebration was already in full swing.

After eating dinner on the stairs outside the stadium, we entered, thinking we had conquered our largest obstacle, we were wrong. In typical Spanish style, nothing is labeled, so we wandered into section after section, not finding our seats. We asked numerous concession stand workers, but they claimed they didn’t know (once again, good ‘ole Spanish service). Finally I found a security person and asked him, at which time we were told we could sit anywhere within the gate we had walked in and that the numbers on our tickets were worthless (this would have been good to know before). We found our way to someone else’s seats while watching someone light a red smoke bomb and someone else dance in the smoke and play a drum. The game was quite exciting, but not as crazy as I thought it would be (perhaps I am used to it from Badger games?). We were tied up at 1-1 until literally the last minute of regulation play, when one of the Sevilla players was taken down in the box. This of course, meant a penalty kick, and the entire stadium collectively held their breath. He shot, and he scored. The crowd went wild; the announcer did not. Apparently (for some unknown reason as there is no instant replay) the goal didn’t count and he had to shoot again. Now that is pressure. He shot again, and GOAL! The whole crowd went nuts, people were cheering, hugging, dancing, singing, smoking, playing drums; it was chaos. It was quite the ending to the game, and as we left the stadium and walked home, not wanting to pay for taxis as they charge by time and not distance, “The Song of Sevilla” accompanied us.

An hour and twenty minutes and many Sevilla cheers from passersby later, I arrived home to find my Señora and her friend watching my Señora’s favorite show “Se llama copla”. Think American Idol on its worst night with a drunken cameraman, Flamenco singing instead of pop music, the worst documentary show about a no-name person, and a high school film project, and you have the show. I was invited to join them, and I spent the wee hours of the morning between two Spanish women watching to see which singer would be dramatically expelled from the show. You can’t get much more Spanish than that.

So I May Not be a Photographer Like Half of my Family

A Note: This was supposed to be a photo journal, but I had to give up on putting the rest of the pictures online. If you really want to see them, you will have to wait until I return in June!

Last weekend I went on a whirlwind trip to Granada, a city in the south of Spain in the Sierra Nevada Mountains.

Granada is most well known for the infamous Alhambra, the number one visited site in all of Spain. The Alhambra was the last Moorish stronghold and palace, and since water is the purest symbol of life, the Alhambra is beautifully decorated with water.

The entire Alhambra is incredibly intricate, with wooden ceilings in various patterns, crazy plaster designs, and series after series of arches, balconies, and hallways. Windows are always used to their best advantage as well, with the windows framing a beautiful city.

The Alhambra was certainly my favorite part of my visit to Granada, but the city is in such sharp contrast to Sevilla that I couldn’t help but be enthralled by its differences. Granada is a much more laid back city, largely due to its huge student and hippy population. On our trip to Albayzín (the Moorish Quarter in Granada) to see the sites of the Alhambra from across the valley, we were also able to enjoy the sites of Gypsies, hippies, and many a stray dog.



Because I know my parents are waiting for some pictures with me in it…




While my trip to Granada was certainly interesting, I am glad that I am living in Sevilla, and I was happy to come back home after an exciting weekend.

Sit Tight

I had prepared what I thought to be a marvelous entry on my weekend trip to Granada, complete with pictures. Since however, the internet decides to work well just as often as I crave one of those giant pork legs hanging in all the store windows, I was unable to upload it. Hopefully in the days to come I will get it up!

As a side note, I would like to say that here it is a sunny 65 degrees without a cloud in the sky. How cold is it in the Midwest again?

On Living With a Señora

A lot of people may think that being waited on hand and foot every minute of the day is easy. I, after having experienced this for a week, would disagree. The Señoras are extremely attentive, at times almost overbearing. They watch your every move. If today you decide not to have an orange, you may be questioned, “Don’t you like oranges anymore, what other fruit do you like?” Or if, you are full from the first two courses and can’t quite finish that last course, then you must hate the food. It is almost embarrassing as well, as I feel uncomfortable having someone do all these things for me that I am perfectly capable of doing. I wanted to wear a nice pair of pants the other day, some which needed to be ironed. I asked my Señora if I could borrow the iron. Instead of allowing me to do it, she insisted on doing it herself. I am though, extremely grateful for all that my Señora does.

My Señora’s apartment is small in regards to American standards, but it is very nice. I have my own room (for now at least, she is dying to get another student) and she completely redid it, painting it purple with matching bedspreads. I have a window that looks out onto our deck and then into the courtyard. The homes are usually colder inside than outside because there is no central heating.

I know most will be surprised to hear that I have eaten everything put in front of me. I do however, bring quite a bit of water to the table to help me wash some of the food down, or in some cases, swallow it whole. I have learned that the best tactic is to not ask what it is or to look at in, but just eat it.

My Señora is very keen on introducing me to quite possibly everyone she knows. Since I arrived last Wednesday, I have met her 27-year-old son and his girlfriend, her neighbor, her friend, her cousin, her niece, her niece’s friend, and her 30-year-old son. It is pretty intimidating to meet everyone, as I know my Spanish is not up to par yet. They are all pretty forgiving though. The niece and her friend are 22, so hopefully I will find friends in them. The friend is very proud of her town (she lives outside of Sevilla in the country) and is dying to have me visit her sometime soon. They were both intrigued by the pictures I had of my house at home, with all the snow. After seeing those, they wanted to see all of my pictures. They were completely enthralled by my computer as well, and after inspecting my music, calling out any band they knew, they asked if I had an Ipod. When I responded yes, they went even crazier and demanded to see that as well. All have been relatively interested in the United States and Madison, and everyone has enjoyed the photography book of Madison that I brought. It, at the very least, helps them get an idea of what life is like for me.

Last night was the Sevilla-Barcelona soccer game, a big deal here in Sevilla. When I arrived home from classes (after being stopped in the hall of the apartment and complained to for 15 minutes by a very old Spanish woman) my Señora was anxiously waiting for me. Her niece and friend had invited me to the niece’s house for the soccer game and wanted to know if I was interested. I said yes and we quickly jumped on the two buses to take us to the opposite side of town. When I arrived it was not just the niece and the friend, but also two other nieces that I hadn’t met, my Señora’s mom and sister, one of the niece’s boyfriends, and the dad. Needless to say, it was quite overwhelming, and I may have been watched just as much as the game was. Everyone here is so concerned about whether you are having fun, whether you have enough food, whether you understand them, etc. Unfortunately the score of the game was 0-0, but it was a fun experience nevertheless. I couldn’t help but laugh at how crazy everyone was going, the grandma was just muttering to herself the entire game about the plays. After the game, the niece and her friend took me and my Señora home, blasting the “Song of Sevilla”, telling me that I needed to learn it. Hopefully, in time, I will.

My First Post- A Recap

Well, I have arrived and I have now started my life in Spain. Things here have been going surprisingly well. It seems my anxiety about arriving and living here was unnecessary. I did not arrive in Spain without problems. I did however, take the random extra security I was forced to go through much better than the lady behind me who was actually sobbing as it was going on.

After a few days of orientation, I moved in with my Señora: a woman with a thick accent, fast tongue, and about half my height. I am her first ever student so I am sure to be spoiled. This also means however, that as a typical Spanish Mother, she will be constantly hovering, nagging, and shoveling food down my throat every time I open my mouth. She is an extremely kind lady and has walked me to class through the extremely narrow and labyrinth-like streets that are incredibly easy to get lost in.  By the end of the walk we had a whole train of American students following us to the building. I live about 45-50 minutes away from school in the barrio (neighborhood) de Triana, so this means a lot of exercise. 

I have met a lot of people, and we have been doing a lot of wandering the streets just taking in the city and the people. All of it is a bit overwhelming, but it has been a good time so far. There is so much to see and do. We already took a side trip to Itálica, a town just outside of Sevilla that was the first civilization the Romans built in Spain. I was pretty impressed. This weekend I will be going to Granada and I am really looking forward to it! 

I am relatively surprised at how comfortable I feel here. I am already getting to know my way around the city, have a group of friends, and don't feel like such an outsider. I know that I stick out and am easily spotted as an American, but it doesn't bother me as much as I thought it might. My Spanish is still struggling, but even in the last couple of days I have improved (my Señora may dispute this). 

Classes here start today, and I must admit that I am a little nervous. For the first 3 weeks I have one intensive language class 3 hours a day. After that my regular classes start up. Once my regular classes start I won't have class on Fridays, so that will mean more time to travel!

Well, that's all for now!