Viernes - el 25 de febrero

Este viernes pasado...This last Friday was a fulfilling day. I started by waking up at 9:00am in order to make my 30 minute uphill climb to my class at the facultad at 10:30 in a nice a casual fashion. The class went by very quickly, being an intro into what we'll be doing every Friday - working in groups, going over articles, debating, and just a furthering of the basics we went over in class on Monday and Wednesday. Since Spanish classes seem to be a bit disorganized and I had no idea what was happening, I mostly sat and read Dracula on my iPod. Then after most of the groups were formed, two stragglers invited me to join there group - and a good thing too for we chose to make a presentation over Literature - my favorite subject!

But since it was simply an introduction class, it was over early, so I wandered around for an hour waiting to meet up with one of the directors at ISA to help me sign up for the class officially. The area around la Faculatad de Filosofía y Letras also contains three other facultades - Economics and Psychology - and it is gorgeous and green.

Where I go to school...

A little house or shed hidden, idylically, between the School of Psychology and Economics.

More stairs...they are everywhere...

A cute little cupola!

Nice views, hmm?

Later, I went out with my fellow roommates for tapas and drinks, ending by chilling in the Parque de Frederico Garcia Lorca, watching all the Spanish middle schoolers flock together and giggle.

Sonorous Secrets

Every Tuesday and Wednesday, at 11:15 am, I take off for class going by the same exact route. That isn’t to say, I pass the same things every time. Though the path never alters the sights and sounds constantly do. Some mornings the Plaza de la Trinidad will be mostly empty, save for a sleeping man and a pigeon or 5, others it will be bustling with little old Spanish ladies buying their daily bread and weekly eggs at one of the many panaderías. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, there’ll be a musician playing his joys and tristezas for the love of music (and a few coins to help him or her onwards through life). Other times there will be lovers strolling through the city, holding hands, leaning on one another and every now and again a person will be meditating on one of the benches near the fountain or drawing a sketch or scribbling some words – poetry, stories, inner thoughts? I always wonder… - in a journal.

Then today, my class was cancelled and I decided to find a bit of sun to soak up. I ended up on the steps of la Santa Iglesia Catedral Metropolitana de la Encarnación, the great main cathedral in the center of Granada (built in three different architectural styles), overlooking an empty plaza (normally used for free concerts) and bordered by artesanías or Arab-inspired shops (they are all the same – scarves and shawls, the same brightly colored, striped purses, jeweled shoes like in Aladdin, earrings and other trinkets), cafés, and pastry shops.

(Unfortunately this isn't my own photo, with the limitations of my camera I find it impossible to get the entire building.)

But as I sat in the warm sol, the greatest pleasure was simply listening – listening to the enchanted music that defines and makes-up and is created by Granada. The narrow streets and enclosed plazas help the music of street musicians resonate throughout the city – a talented, one-armed man plays some sort of wind instrument – something like a black, thick, wooden flute and clarinet crossbreed – and accordion music drifts into the square from the opposite direction. Adding to this melody is the backdrop rhythm of the constant murmuring of a dozen different languages, a thousand conversations and the bartering of merchants and customers and the ever-constant noise of the construction sites – the drills and mixers and jackhammers – becoming something like percussion.

The feeling of absorbing the magic that I found in that spot, not only inspires me to come back over and over to my lovely Granada, but to also find those magic sweet spots in my own city, my state, and throughout the large country I call home.

el 21 de febrero de 2011

My dear and loyal readers, though I don't know who many of you are or if you exist, (this is a plea for comments - a simple anonymous "hi! I love reading your adventures" sort of deal will do!) I am so sorry for the long delay in between posts. My excuse is that I've been mentally and physically exhausted. Wondering why? Well that is exactly what this post is about.

As I had mentioned on my last post of the 16th, I was recruited for a volunteer translating gig. Well, this was extended to include me being on call for the band members and attending two exclusive events!

Some days after my initial volunteering experience, I received a call from Sergio asking me to reserve 3 dates for the Granada Retro Back Festival and to stop by the office and pick up a staff pass!

My first reserved date I also receive a call from the singer of the band, Vanessa, asking me to stop by the rehearsal to watch, translate, and get a general idea of things. So Friday afternoon comes along and I head on over to el Teatro Isabel la Católica. There I finally meet the entire group of Sexteto Retro Back and I make myself comfortable in the extremely cushy theater chairs (Honestly, Spain has the most comfortable audience chairs - for the cinema, for the theater...). It's a really cool sound - cello, bass, guitar, mandolin, drums and during one part a box drummer.

Two really bad photos of the band...

And then later,  I got to go to a special, invitations-only party at one of the fancier bar/clubs in Granada - the Aliatar Café (which happens to be situated directly above one of the popular clothing chains Blanco). The café had a really awesome atmosphere as is, but then it went above and beyond expectations with a little Gaslight Theater-esque performance of Some Like it Hot with the original movie playing silently in the background. Also, there were some really interesting and delicious apéritifs being passed around - hush puppies and aioli sauce, fish and pineapple, shrimp cocktails, meat filled corn bread type squares, etc...

While there, I met another, legitimate and established, translator - an older woman from Texas who one year decided to move to Spain to study Spanish, and now 20 years later has a family and a life in Granada. It was really inspiring to hear her story, to discover that these sorts of things happen in real life too.

********

Then Saturday evening, I end up hanging out in Vanessa's dressing room helping to translate the chaos that is hair, makeup, and clothing at the same time. And afterwards I was able to watch the Opening Ceremony for free. It was so entertaining, really well done, and only about an hour and a half long.

Stage and the hostess, wearing a beautiful dress.

Two actors (yes, they are men) helping to introduce the festival...(inspired by Some Like it Hot)

The singer Vanessa in a Marilyn inspired gown...

el 16 de febrero

This morning has led me through a twisting path of emotions today, and I’ve only been up for 3 and a half hours! It all started with me dreaming that I couldn’t sleep…you know, it’s too early to wake up but you just can’t regain blissful unconsciousness? Then at 9:45am my blaring ringtone roughly startles me awake (allowing me to realize I had been sleeping quite well before that, contrary to my dreaming restlessness). When I pick up it’s to the voice of one of the ISA directors, David (pronounced in a Spanish accent of course [Dah-VEED]), asking me if I was interested in a volunteering opportunity at noon today for one of Granada’s movie festivals, called Retro Back where they pick a star to honor and screen old. Still confused from the contrast between reality and sleep, I agree to show up at some office at noon to see what it’s all about.

Noon comes up and I walk into the elevator of one of the Ayuntamiento’s buildings (the city government), fully expecting to be one of several volunteers to help set things up for the festival, vaguely recalling David mentioning something about driving around and picking people up, when I finally find the correct room. Peeking around the door frame I am confronted with 2 people busily making arrangements on the phone in a tiny cramped and cluttered office. The woman, in charge of this particular affair of the Granada Retro Back Festival, welcomes me in and proceeds to call me Melissa throughout my stay in her presence. But I have to stress it wasn’t out of haughtiness or forgetfulness; she was simply stressed and apologized profusely after every mistaken naming. While she continued making calls, Sergio, her partner in crime (or rather chaos at this moment), was explaining to me in a rather round-about way what I was to do. It all came down to this – I was to be an interpreter!! A blues, jazz, etc band from Michigan (don’t get your hopes up, they were all middle-aged or older, =p) had come to Granada to play for the opening ceremony of the festival, I was to help explain their itinerary and the plans for the day.

Not really sure what to expect, but willing to make a full out of myself for the experience, I followed Sergio to the hotel where the band was staying. After calling every member to meet us in the first floor (that would be the floor above the lobby in Spain and most of Europe), I start explaining what the plans are for tonight, asking Sergio specifications in Spanish (though he can understand English) and conveying the answers to the band in English.

It was such an amazing experience. And I get a free lunch!

And the entire day was ended with a viewing of Beauty and the Beast. But I nearly exploded from not being able to sing out loud with the songs (there was one girl who had only seen it ONCE before in her life. Preposterous.)

el 15 de febrero de 2011

Hoy es un día lluvioso. Today is a rainy day. And I love it. As long as I don’t have to walk in it for longer than 20 minutes. I really do love the rain, and a rainy Granada is always a beautiful sight. The rain is always a thing of cleaning and refreshment; literally, metaphorically, metaphysically.

Last night, my 4^th class for this semester began. French. Taught in Spanish. I absolutely loved every second of the two hours of it. It’s a very small intimate class – only 5 of us students total, most born in Granada. It’s a lively class too, even though it takes place from 8pm to 10pm. The prof is amusing and, in this first class, explained many of his opinions on life, music, literature and astrology through the clever use of les listes blanche et noire (the white and black lists). On the liste blanche is English and American culture, the Zodiac signs Cancer and Libra, the Spanish singer Camela y the director Woody Allen. On the liste noire is Celine Dion, English as a language, the Zodiac sign Scorpio and the Spanish soccer team Real Madrid (him being from Barcelona). From this I learned that I should be a Sagittarius, starts learning a bunch of things - never quite finishing them, travels a lot, and trips.

But the best part about the entire class, was that they all though I was from Granada. =D

We will just all have to wait to see if I’ll have a life after I start my 5^th and final class at the Facultad de Filosofía y Letras (College of Philosophy and Letters) for my History of Spain class. That will make 4 classes (a total of 7 hours) every Monday and Wednesday and 2 hours of History on Fridays.

el 14 de febrero

Today, during my vuelta or stroll around the city, I enjoyed the overcast skies and the still damp ground from last night’s rain. We are supposed to have rainstorms all week, though I have a feeling it’ll mostly happen at night. I love the rain at any rate, so it always brightens my mood to see dark clouds in the sky.

I decided to walk El paseo de tristes (The sad ones’ path), so named because it was the same path that the funeral processions used to walk after the church ceremony. It starts at one of the iglesias and then winds around next to the river and finally takes a sharp turn up a steep hill that leads to the old cemetery. The ancestors of Granada used to take that exhausting walk while CARRYING THE COFFIN. Uphill. By foot. At least a 30 minute walk for me. I can’t even imagine. The view is beautiful though because you pass right under, and later, right next to the Alhambra.

On my way back I came across the cutest, dirtiest three legged dog I have ever seen. I wanted to take him home and give him a bath. He was following two other dogs and their owner, but I couldn’t tell if he was part of the gang or just wanted to make some new friends. I hope the former…

And then just after that I saw a gaggle of middle schoolers with their backpacks, presumably on a field trip to see the Albaicín or the Alhambra. To me, an outsider, it seems so exciting and cool! But I’m sure to them, it was as common place as our field trips to the local art museum.


And to celebrate Valentine’s Day, we watched the childhood classic The Mighty Ducks. =p Quack Quack Quack!!!

el 12 de febrero

Today was a day of reunions and of celebrating the second semester in Spain. After almuerzo, lunch, I headed over to my old host family’s apartment. A 5 minute stroll, a ring on the buzzer, and I see a familiar graying head and sweater peek out over the balcony. “Hola Paco!!” I yell enthusiastically and quickly bound up the 4 flights of narrow stairs to the comforting and familiar casa that I lived in last semester. With besos and abrazos (kisses and hugs), I am welcomed through the door and rushed to the living room where lunch has been set out. I have a second lunch, because Ana’s food is just that mouthwateringly delicious and rich, and then we all have a cup of coffee and a tasty sweet treat made by, of course, the master chef and baker Ana.

The treat is called a flor de liz (like a fleur-de-lys) and it is fried in a mold and then sugar is sprinkled on top. So very delicious and crispy. Goes quite well with café con leche.

After my reunión with my host family, I went to meet up with the yearlong students in my program. We went out for sangría and churros con chocolate. We chatted and gossiped (fun word in Spanish – el cotilleo (co-tee-yay-oh)) and wandered around for a bit. After our 3rd plate of warm, crispy, light and airy churros we decided it was time to head back home.

el 11 de febrero - El senderismo! (hiking)

This weekend has been an exploration of Granada. On Friday, I went with my study abroad group on a 4 hour easy hike around La Dehesa de Generalife, or the public park ground above the Alhambra’s Generalife (the official and royal gardens of the palace). A neat little fact is that this park area was declared a public park by Francisco Franco, the ever so beloved late dictator of España, and if you hike enough of the park you can find a much desecrated memorial to this deed.

After climbing the exhausting hill up to the Alhambra, which is a hike in and of itself, we climbed just a bit higher to access the park. Within seconds of leaving the parking lot behind, a refreshing scent of tangy pine revealed itself to my pleasantly surprised nostrils. On the hill where the park lies, are trees and grass everywhere with an overwhelming sense of escape and simplicity (even though the park isn’t even outside the city limits!)

As we snaked around this small mountain, equally beautiful views were discovered. And if one is an avid hiker, la Dehesa offers a thousand different snaking trails of varying difficulties – a build your own hike, if you will. And at the top are fields of yellow flowers, row after row of olive trees, and a stunning view of the softly white snowy-peaked Sierra Nevadas.

Near this fairytale-like lookout we picnicked and imagined siesta-ing the afternoon away.

El 8 de febrero de 2011

On my walk around town today I suddenly realized what one of my favorite things about Granada is – the honesty of the culture. The Spaniards are stereotyped as being rude, but that is just because they are straightforward, blunt, honest. They tell things how they are, they don’t beat  around the bush. And when you can’t eat anymore of a food, or just don’t feel like eating it at the moment, the only thing you can say is “No me apetece or “No quiero”: I just don’t want it.”

Another example of the honesty of this country is how respectful people are to businesses. When I first got here, going out to tapas and walking by shops screamed for the Five Finger Discount. It would be so easy to just get up and leave without paying the bill while eating outside on the sidewalk of a busy tapas bar. So many stores here are so tiny that they don’t have cameras and the merchandise has no security on it. It would be so easy to just take something and go. I’ve asked Spaniards about it too. They say it happens, sure, but it isn’t as common as I thought it’d be.

Even the graffiti is an art form! (Mostly, there are inevitably taggers.) Around the city (including on my building), you can find the pictures of El Niño de las Pinturas, on of the most famous graffitti artists of Granada. (More photos: http://www.tertuliaandaluza.com/sociedad/gente/el-nino-de-las-pinturas) But the overall vibe I get from Granada is respect.

Not too mention all of the trash dumpsters and recycle bins placed conveniently throughout the city. Every plaza has a set near by. There are even recycle bins for pilas, or batteries! Granada has it going on.

El 7 de febrero de 2011

Classes start today, only I haven’t had any yet due to the fact that my first professor decided he didn’t want to start class today. We were waiting for 15 minutes when a woman from the Secretaría (I bet you can guess the english translation of that word. Come on, it’s not that hard. ;p) came in and told us the news. Can’t say I was really shocked…things are so much more lax here in Spain. The professors are much more open to being friends and comrades than those professors who maintain a professional emotional separation from their students.

Since I had several hours to spare before lunch I decided to walk around Granada for a bit. I wandered towards the nearest mall. The Neptuno isn’t actually that much different from our malls at home. It’s on the smaller side, though it has three floors – one of which houses the Mae West Club (a famed posh club that can be pretty picky (racist? snobbish?) about who they let in, though I made it last semester and had a blast.) My goal in the mall? Not to wander about and window shop, but to check out what goodies were in the “Todo a un euro” store!!! I have to say I was thrilled to find that an equivalent of our dollar stores existed in Granada. And so close! Only about 10-15 minutes away by foot. My findings today? A cute little wristlet purse for nights out dancing, a foldable fabric basket that will be great for future use too, and a pack of envelopes the perfect size for postales (post cards). Total cost? Exactly 3 euros. Gotta love the tax and tip included in everything mindset of Spain.

On my lovely little walk around town, I was reminded of the many obras or construction sites that they have around the city. Funny how little things like that can slip from your memory in only a month and a half. The nice thing is that the road and building works aren’t that obstructive if you are a pedestrian. I can’t imagine the horror of driving through that, though the buses seem to get through fairly speedily. What is it all for you might ask? Well, I actually know the answer to this one – the road works are for a combination above and below ground light rail/tram railway and the other construction sites are for the restoration of all the old, historic, and abandoned buildings in Granada. I don’t think it will ever all be over. It’s part of the city, to me at least. But if the construction ever does finish up completely, I will be back again to see the city clear and more beautiful than ever.

In transit...

It’s 3:12 in Tucson, 4:12 in Dallas, and just past midnight in Granada – my destination city. I can’t help but get confused when I talk times with my family as I do my traveling. To which time zone do I refer – the one I’m in, the one the other end of the call is in, the one on the plane schedule?

Then I ask myself a very simple question - Why must this abstract concept be so darn complicated?

Alack, there is nothing I can do about it except accept the confusion and do my best to reference the time zone I’m referring to.

I also ask myself as I sit waiting for the departure time to arrive, why are the gods of weather so against me lately? This is my second attempt trying to get back to Spain. Previous flight was canceled due to icy weather in Dallas, Texas. Since when does Dallas get cold?! It didn’t make sense. But then again, it’s been wacky weather as of late – as I well should know from my lovely forced stay in London due to snow storms – and even Tucson had reached a low not heard of for decades. I personally am blaming global warming and the weather gods. They have it out for me. =(

Back to being in the Dallas Fortworth International Airport. I’ve been through here a handful of times now. It seems I always end up in Terminal D too. It’s a very large airport with a variety of restaurants that are always advertised on the tram I have to take from terminal to terminal. Though very few of them are ever opened in the D terminal, it’s always interesting to read what’s new and noteworthy here.

This doesn’t seem to be coming into a collected story, so I apologize for the vaguely connected thoughts. On second thought, I shouldn’t even bother writing these sentences. I’ll most likely edit them out before I post.

Which I WILL do this time. (But you readers have to help me! Let me know you are reading and are interested! Your dependence on me will motivate the blogging. So COMMENT! EMAIL! FACEBOOK! ¡POR FAVOR!)

And I’m back to reflecting on all my stays in airports across the U.S. and Europe these last 6 months. I’m surprised I ever made it to Spain on time in the first place. 

Pictures of "The Delay"

Photos from the first hotel, the first delay in Madrid. This one was due to technical issues on the plane.

Yes, it was HUGE. It was more like a musuem or a theme park. It had EVERYTHING inside of it.

The snow that ruined my life...yeah it was that thick on the planes even though they were on and trying to melt the snow off.

The table where I sat most mornings for breakfast at my hotel the Harte and Garter.

Yep, it's a castle. Where the queen summers. Super expensive to tour though - about 15 pounds with student discount.

Cupcakes! These shops are EVERYWHERE it seems!

 Yep, that's a cake with the Queen on it.

 First real fish and chips deal.

Me eating the fish and chips. Definitely cheered me up that night. Also, the batter was so delicious and just a tiny bit sweet like french toast. The store owner also though I was Arabic/Egyptian. Made me smile. =p

The DELAY (or forced impromptu adventure!)

With sufficient time to overcome the emotional trauma of my return home, I bring to you all a story of my week delay.

Coming home from Granada was a simple 4 part, 1 day flight turned into a weeklong series of 3 attempted flights, isolation in a quaint Windsor/London hotel, and bitter cold with no proper clothing (barely any clothing at all considering I packed light expecting to be in warm Tucson within 24 hours of leaving Granada).

I have to admit, abashedly though it may be done, I am a rather sensitive soul and cried for every canceled flight. A lot. It was not fun hearing I couldn’t get home the first time, nor the second, nor even the third. In fact it got worse and worse till I didn’t believe I’d make it home before New Years’. Thank goodness my pessimism was proven wrong. I made it home just in time for Christmas Eve. But in the meantime, I survived on my free pity breakfasts from the hotel, extra food I just couldn’t eat at breakfast and thus saved to eat for later on the same day (they had some delicious little jams), a few outings that included a 3 course kid’s meal and fish and chips, heavy doses of the computer and internet, and British TV shows.

Did I mention it was a very sad time in my life, both in the emotional and the slang senses of the word. I tried to get outside. But it was snowy, then slushy, and then just plain windy and cold. So I stayed inside in my PJs for at least 90% of my stay in good ol’London. Which I never really want to go back to again. No offense London, we just had a terribly rotten start. Though I did venture to a club one night.

You see, the first night I stayed over in Windsor. I was going to meet a friend I had made at the airport. The same friend who overheard me asking for the same bus he needed and then offered me a ride with him and his dad. It was such a nice thing. And it saved my emotional life. I would have been sobbing in a corner for hours feeling lost and alone and betrayed by the world, not to mention have a severe psychological scar, if it weren’t for that kind soul. I never saw him after they dropped me off at the hotel. He was a cool kid – spoke Polish, Russian, English and a little of a few other languages too – and I thank him so much still for the ride and kindness in that crazy time.

It's those little things that renew my faith in humanity. And also prove my theory that kids are kids (of any age) no matter where they are raised or what language they speak. We are all basically the same - trying to have fun while making sense of this crazy ride called Life.

Repetition of a cycle...

(Written at beginning of return home.) Exactly one week after my initial attempt to return home for the holidays I finally arrived in Arizona. The fates were finally evening out my karma from the amazing dream vacation in Paris by canceling 3 of my international flights and deserting me in the freezing cold London with only summer clothes in my luggage. Needless to say it was an emotionally trying time that I would love to put behind me for a while.

Once finally back in my belovéd Tucson, I am busy catching up with everyone before they have to return to their respective Universities for the Spring terms. So after a measly 2.5 days of recovery I am back to driving the oh-so-familiar streets of my hometown to visit my scintillatingly silly yet clever and crafty high school friends scattered across the city. And after 4 months apart we pick right back up on our silly antics, baking, goldfish covered pizzas, titillatingly commentated movies and gossiping about all our old classmates. (From this point on written at end of my stay in Tucson.) Not to mention lunches at our favorite restaurants - Indian, Chinese, Japanese (aka sushi), good ol' sandwiches, and a late night IHOP run - catching the matinée and cheap movies and basically frolicking about.

It was a blast

It always nice to know there is a place you can retreat to, a comfort zone - not just my house and my family, but a whole town full of funtastic people who I am proud to call my friends. Thanks guys! <3