one week more

seven days left of this summer abroad. it's a little strange to think about...

monday night we wandered the city searching for a cafe we'd found the week before and shouting american songs in spanish. this led us to anna's computer, where we youtubed spanish music videos for probably three hours. we found out that america is not the only home of chintzy tunes. classy, thy name is david bisbal.

tuesday was mahayla's birthday, and i think we spent it well. anna and i bought her some bizarre salt n pepper shakers shaped like figures in the semana santa procession,

and we trotted around the city at night finding people to talk to near the glowing river, and music to dance to at pícaro bar. the only thing that would have made it better would have been an enormous chocolate cake. and ice cream. and apple pie. obviously.

wednesday and thursday slipped by,

and on friday we did some hiking in the mountains near segovia, to a really beautiful sight of a battle during the Spanish Civil War. it was great to see green grass and blue mountains, as toledo is rather brown and water-starved. our guides were also very enthusiastic, reminding us that even though the site is beautiful, it is scarred with what happened there long ago. and it once was a desolate place.


next we trekked to franco's tomb, which is impressive and imposing but pretty damn infuriating. the dude planted a big cross and an enormous vault on a hill to commemorate his abhorred existence. it was a little creepy to walk around the dimly-lit interior and stare up at biblical paintings and statues, and then see franco's tomb covered in flowers near the altar. what gall.


but a lovely time nonetheless. saturday, my Master Painters of Spain class took a day trip to madrid to see many of the paintings we've been studying, and my friends and i ate supper at a vegetarian restuarant called madre tierra. the lights were low and orange, the waitstaff smiled wide, and we were served little cups of coffee flavored liquor at the end, on the house. my tongue was buzzing all the way home until i collapsed into bed, eyes and head hot with the day and the talk and the night.

it's been a busy weekend, and i'm ready to relax. considering the air is thick with heat, it seems even more attractive to spend today studying inside and lounging about.

i keep thinking about what it will be like to be home again. while i can't wait to see the fam, sometimes i get a little nervous when i look too long at toledo's rocky surface and layers of tiled roofs, and it's plazas full of people enjoying nothing at all. it might be a while before i return. but i hope i will.

bits

i shan't lie, i like to make things sound pretty. especially up here on this blog, where i can control whatever shows up on screen. ha. ha. you think you know, but you have no idea. the following is a smallish list of some of the weirder things spain has to offer us little albino estudiantes:

numero uno: eye-less cats. EYE-LESS. sometimes tail-less, and always wild and eating garbage. my friend anna tries to pet them a lot, and it's rather a job to get her to back off. "hola, gato!" more like hola, rabies. these cats are not friendly and they are certainly not fluffy. they're basically walking pipecleaners. poor sodden beasts...

dos: raucous and abundant pidgeons/swallows. i hate birds, and the other day, one flew in my open window. but we won't get into that.

tres: fiestas en los barrios. meaning, neighborhood carnivals that echo our own county fairs, but in a slightly less safe and organized way. you thought that wasn't possible? you thought wrong. i'll give you a quick "hypothetical": three girls see a snazzy octupus-like ride at the fiesta in Poligano and decide to give it a go. they do the sensible thing and buy a ticket (2.50€), and wait along the perimeter to be called. stupid, stupid little girls. when the ride stops, they are basically trampled beneath the stampede of ratty little niños who haven't paid, but know the real rules of the fiesta. they run about the ride for five minutes searching for an open seat, only to be openly mocked by a pair of scrawny mullet-topped chicos who have slid into the last one. oh sad awakening. barrio fiestas suck.

cuatro: cat calls. don't be surprised if your quiet three-person chat at a terraza on sunday night turns into a three-person defense against the opposite sex. also, no need to walk around feeling insecure. there are plenty of men (old and young) willing to tell you that you're loved...er whatever. luckily, they are never aggressive.

cinco: dubbed movies. actually, dubbed everything. i will commend the spanish on their taste in films, both american and otherwise. there is plenty to watch. but just...how can i take Robin Williams seriously when his voice sounds dark and suave and spanish? yes, it's educational. yes, i prefer robin williams in english. yes, this is obnoxious.

seis: ham. wait, have i mentioned the ham? HAM. there, i've mentioned it thrice. ham is everywhere. if you think you like ham, you might think you'll like spain. i assure you, this is no ham you've ever tasted at your family christmas party. this is ham in many different shades of blushing pink, with all sorts of shiver-inducing textures. ham for dinner ham for lunch, ham hanging in your window. have you had enough? ham.



having said all of this, let it also be known that first: this list is in no way comprehensive, second: this stuff is true, and third: i love spain. what would it be like without all of these things? far less exciting.

(but lord, the cats are hideous.)

zoo day

i harldy know how to characterize yesterday.

we meant to do several things. first, to see some scenery. mountains, to be precise. second, to move around, because this week has been homework heavy. third, to leave toledo. it is lovely but sometimes small. my friend mahayla and i planned a hiking trip in the nearby sistema central of mountains, just two hours away. finally finally finally.

but we suck at planning.
not knowing exactly what bus to take from madrid to cercedilla (the mountain town), we left toledo at 8:30 hoping for the best. the best turned out to be a longish trip to the train station, only to find that the next trian to cercedilla didn't leave until 1. little time to hike at our leisure and then return for the last bus to toledo at 10. big fat sigh. big fat deal. we were tired anyway, we had prepped ourselves for a hard day's work. we had gotten up early to travel, and we both knew that meant making a lot of (well-worth) effort to squeeze every last bit of enjoyment out of our destination. we were strangely relieved at being thwarted.

that's ok, now we know what to do next time.
yeah yeah. next time.
that's alright, since we're already in madrid, we might as well take advantage of the park.
of course of course.
and while we're at it, let's check out that thai restaurant i saw last time i was here.
brilliant idea.
and damnit, let's have some wine.
claro.
holy crap! they have a starbucks here. let's give in and get a cup.
yeeesssss!
now for sweets.
how about nutella?
no day could be without.
sí!
and isn't that the plaza mayor?
let's sit here for a while.
a while...
a while.
while the sun is finally peeking out.
but the breeze
still plays around.

it was a great day. it was a day at the zoo for an 8-year-old. we stumbled on things we hadn't expected to find, like a handmade jewelry store where they offered you a flower when you walked in the door. like the picnic of old men and baguettes in the park. and a guy with pink shoes. and the caixa building with it's outer wall of funny vegetation. and a store that sold peanut butter.


it was great because it wasn't what we had planned. we got back to toledo before we were exhausted and we couldn't help feeling giddy whenever we looked at each other and remembered that we had spent the day talking and walking and feeling warm in the plaza for hours, with our jar of nutella on our welcoming stone bench.



today is cold and clear. cold for toledo, that is. the blue wind tried to blow through me when i stood in front of the window, and it felt good to wake up still satisfied.

la tarde

today: is busy.

i have homework. and of course, i'm nervous about it. but i suppose i shouldn't complain, as it's my first assignment of the summer.

before i begin, i relax. of course. because procrastination is my master. class is over for the afternoon, so i head outside, bag over shoulder, nectarine in hand. it's 11:40am.

the streets are finally busy. the weekend was quiet, a siesta larga. but now it's back to "work". i step into spots of scorching sun and soothing shadow as i manage the now familiar narrow streets. the cobblestones accomodate me. we're pals. i can turn twisty corners without looking, and have learned to listen for the teeny cars that take up the roadway when they pass. toledo is a small small world.

as on most weekdays, there are people on corners with tickets hanging round their necks, for sale. they wear hats and sunglasses. i don't know what the tickets are for, but i assume they are touristy in nature. they don't bother anyone. i watch for the occasional accordian player, but he's not yet out today. maybe soon--his jaunty notes fit this place so well.

as i walk, i catch moments of conversations and words i recognize. i try hard to eavesdrop when i stroll...i think i am improving. when i bump into people (often), "perdona" slips easily from my mouth. this is one thing (be it small) that i am proud of--not having to think before saying certain things.

store owners smoke lazily in their doorways, and greet you solemnly when you enter inside. their windows are filled with glinting swords (toledo's pride) and amber jewelry, leather bags and crappy jewelry, molded marzipan and wooden jewelry. some people lay out goods on blankets. there are LOADS of shoe stores too. it's typical. but comforting. i know this place a little now.

i end at the Plaza Zocodover, the city's medieval market spot, where there's a arch called La Puerta de Sangre (as it was once a place for hanging delinquents). the plazas are my favorite. mostly because they are natural meeting places, and ebbs in the city's steady tide. for older people, especially. they watch me as i pass through, because that's what people do when they're relaxing. sometimes friends come to sit with them. other times they call to aquaintances passing by: "has luego, bonita". though their faces are indecipherable, i imagine they're content.

no, i'm sure of it.

la mañana

today: i wake up.

i check the clock, it's 9:13. the sun is a bright square on the floor, and i remember i have class in 45 minutes.

i get dressed slowly. i do not make myself look cute for breakfast, because that is stupid. other people do. you know. i just wear the same shirt i slept in.

i go down two flights of stone stairs. they are wide and airy, and do not feel cloistered (this place used to be a convent). it's a nice morning walk, and i'm starving.

the dining hall is also pretty, and bright--an ancient mess hall. the morning server smiles at me, she's wearing lipstick. i can see the courtyard through big windows, and the radio's on: the voice of prince or rhinanna swims quietly through the room. as three or four people bend over their meals, i head straight for the coffee.

the coffee is greyish. and it's good...ish. there's a hot-milk carafe for adding, and packets of sugar and small spoons to stir. i like this ritual.

two tables are spread with breakfast. there are big ceramic bowls of cornflakes and chocolatey pellety things. there is very sweet milk (the best milk) in silver pitchers. the other table has toast, a bottomless basket of fruit, and row upon row of sugar-slicked pastries. oh. my. goodness. i stay close to the cornflakes, for protection.
the pastries are very persuasive.

sometimes i eat alone, sometimes not. today, mahayla and jinny are up and bleary. they mutter "hola" and ask how i slept. we are comfortable and not too chatty. many times we discuss what dreams we've had the night before. because...well because i don't know why.

we sit for a while and then leave at different times. mahayla has a test and jinny already needs a siesta. i stay later, because i like to drink more than one cup of coffee. and i like the empty yellow morning and the tinkling of the kitchen staff. they are tireless.

i go back up to my room and open the window. the white curtain billows in toward me, like a sail. i have ten minutes until class. my windowsill is wide, cool stone, and i can see curved red tiles on the roof below, embellised with dappled green fungi. there are high craggy hills in the distance and some guardian cypress trees. when i lean against the sill, i can see far.

toledo's waking up outside.

Futbollers

Spain won the Eurocup, guys!

I don't know. I never thought I would get into sports. I enjoyed playing soccer in high school, up until sophmore year when it stopped being less fun and more work. but i never really needed to watch other people do it, or even think about other people playing. But it's pretty hard to not get worked up about soccer when you're in Spain. It's been over 40 years (or something) since Spain made it to the final game...i think. but even if it were less than that, it always feels good to be the champion of something you've worked hard for. so when i sat meekly clapping and smiling amidst of a bunch of hollering hombres y mujeres in the bar sunday night, i felt a part of something. they sang in unison, for god's sake! they hugged eachother, called eachother, sloshed beer on strangers and jumped up and down, and this crazy wannabe jack sparrow guy who i swear sleeps behind the bar banged on a drum for probably eight minutes. they were proud, and it was nice to see.

and when i was plastered with sweat to my bed at night, i could still hear them, all of them, honking their car horns and chanting: a por ellos, oé. it made the heat ok. there's an entire country of sweaty, but proud, spaniards going to bed with a smile.

maybe this is all just more appealing in europe. but when everyone turns our in their red and yellow for a big fiesta, sports are not so bad.

ham land and other foodstuffs

and now it's time to express some disappointment in the spanish. they're all dark and wild and relaxed, and dude--we love their cities and their discos and their old pretty buildings. but there's one thing they haven't won any of us over on.

their FOOD.

not one of us. everyday i hear my fellows mouth off about meals and how they're starving and will simply have to go to that pizza place after dinner in order to stay alive. whiiiiiiiiiiine. but not even i, the self-proclaimed wastebin of foodstuffs, am impressed. i like to say that i like good food, like non-processed cheese and homemade bread and whatever. but basically, i'm a hungry person who understands that indulgence and enjoyment are big parts of gastronomy. that hotdogs and risottos can exist in the same world, if we'd just admit that we're all pretty easy to satisfy. we're all humans. and i'll eat that cold pizza-bagel off of your plate if i'm still hungry and if you're going to throw it away. eating is fun.

but spain is a different story. there's weird shit here (pâté, man. and pickled asparagus. and yesterday, when we took an excursion to madrid, we ate at museo del jamon: the museum of ham!). over the past few weeks, i think i've managed to pin down what the mysterious deal is, and why we're all complaining about our meals: nothing here is spectacular enough to make anything else seem indulgent.

does that make sense?

alright. what i mean is, spain is basically like any american city in that meat, potatoes, and other basic vegetables are the most common fare. we eat pale iceberg lettuce salads with tomatoes and olive oil. we have slices of ham (we could start calling spain "spam") and bean soups. we eat apples and oranges and sometimes even spaghetti. sadly (saaaaadly), dessert is almost never more exciting than an ice cream sandwich (but, ok...ice cream sandwiches are pretty marvelous).

and paella...is good, but not great. it's basically a huge skillet of yellow rice with bits of red and green pepper flecked throughout and a strong fishy flavor. it's fun to find pieces of shrimp and calamari in the dish, but in general, it's not very interesting. too bad.

so really, there's not much to jump around about. there aren't really any exciting national desserts or exotic fruits to take our minds off of the food we're served at school. it's hard to go out (in toledo, at least) and find any "authentic" spanish restaurant that is different from what we've been having in the cafeteria. restaurants all advertise the paella we eat every sunday, and all cafes have the same big chunks of meat and potatoes on their menus. maybe i'm dreaming, but it seems to me that our good city of minneapolis has more variety than many places in spain.

but you know, at least we're fed. and amply. i am always grateful for that. and the hundreds of ice cream spots around the city are stocked with rum raisin (yeeeeEEEES) and dulce de leche and "whipped cream" flavors. but after these two weeks, i must say that the best eating in spain can still be found at imported places that sell hummus and falafel and kebabs.

i think western europe may be losing the culinary battle to the mediterraneans...oh well. thank goodness for globalization.

En español, por favor

HEY!

I'm in Toledo, and things are going well. The first day of "school" was a headache, as first days usually are. But I am surprised at how well I am adjusting. It probably helps that I have been in travel mode for three weeks and feel capable of dealing with all sorts of different circumstances. (Budapest--perhaps you taught me well.)
This is cake.

Toledo has storybook quality. Sometimes it feels like we're on a movie set because the streets are so narrow and cobbled and the old building walls are so high. You never know what is around the next corner or beyond the city walls. Pretty and quaint.

The Spanish way of life is growing on me quickly...on everyone, I think. We like staying up late and being lazy in the afternoons, knowing we have nothing to do but be for a while. I've also managed to spot a few really friendly people, so that I have a decent group friends to eat with and walk around with. This might be my greatest accomplishment yet.

Also this: our second night in Toledo we had a big welcome dinner thang, with tapas and mingling and all that crap. Towards the end, a band of youngish guys came in full traditional Spanish garb to execute some lively Spanish music, with small guitars and tambourines and dancing. And they were cute and they made jokes and they made us volunteer to be serenaded and blah blah blah. And all the girls swooned and all the boys watched very carefully. As the band was leaving, they invited anyone who wanted to come to the bar down the road. Great beginning.

So we went; me and the few girls I knew. The Spanish guys were endlessly patient with our ums and silences and confused nods, slowing down if we didn't understand. And it turned out that they were pretty suave and gentlemanly, and a lot of other good stereotypes. Then a smaller group of us went out with them again the next night, to a terraza where they was played trashy american pop and there was a beautiful aerial view. It was comfortable and pleasant and we even felt like we were learning something. Late, they drove us home, with techno music filling up their little tin cars, and we all went up to bed. Happy.

I think we got lucky...and I think it will not always be this easy to meet people. I mean, crap--during the first five days we were in the flipping Lizzie McGuire Movie. What the hell happened?