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.)

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.

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?