The pace. The noises. The smells. The sights. The hustle. The bustle. The thunderstorms. The subway. The food. The magic of New York City.
I'm a New Yorker. 2 months today I arrived from what feels like a dreamland from decades ago. I have transformed from a Siesta-Taking, Tapas-Eating, Flamenco-Dancing, Weekend-Hiking English Teacher .............to a............. Coffee-Addicted, Fast-Walking, Sleep-Deprived, Laptop Toting, Multi-Tasking, PB&J-Eating Graduate Student.
A little perspective on my life here versus Spain: In Spain I worked 15 hours a week. Here I am working more than 15 hours a DAY. Needless to say, I am busy. And my hustle and bustle often does not have anything to do with the hustle and bustle of the big apple.
I am learning a tremendous amount everyday, about sciences such as climatology, hydrology, environmental chemistry and toxicology. All subject my parents would never have dreamed I would take a liking to. I am becoming quite the specialist in Water Resource Management too.
All my peers in my program are wonderful. It is a very kind, supportive and engaging group, with a wide range of experiences. Although my world is small during the week - immersed in school, books and studies - I have been able to take advantage of the city as well. I go out among the high-heel clad trendy bar goers in the meat packing district. Shop in SoHo. Go to concerts on the Central Park summer stage. Watch the Mets games. Eat hot dogs at Coney Island. And sip my latte and read the New York Times on Sunday mornings.
The pace of this city is truly unreal. So much diversity. So many languages. So much spanish. So many people going places all the time. The hustle. The Bustle. The smells. New York Pizza. Bagels. And of course, so much to study. I don't know how much more I can absorb. I do know, that you better always have your umbrella ready for that afternoon thunderstorm.
I haven't even seen the Statue of Liberty yet. That is for next weekend.
Sunday, July 27, 2008
Thursday, May 29, 2008
Yes, I lived in Spain
I just had my first Spanish encounter in the States. Tough.
As of yesterday I made a 100% successful transition from country mouse life in Spain, to life as a city mouse in New York City.
The last week in Ronda was absolutely touching. The generosity. Aside from being a teary mess for nearly 9 days straight, saying goodbye to each piece of my life in Spain one by one - with outings, barbecues, play dates, lunches, and more - was difficult, to say the least. Leaving the serenity as well as the people. It was a beautiful reality.
Between my last day at the colegio, elementary school, with the little ones today where i received so many slobbery kisses, pictures, drawings, a song, a poem, and a lovely book of Ronda signed by the teachers, i feel so moved by the generosity and kindness of everyone in my life.
The director had written "She arrived an American, and is leaving a Rondena."
The teacher of the 4 year olds explained to the students that I was leaving, and going to a city far away that is very very big - with buildings that seem like they touch the sky. And she said "So, we need to say goodbye." They got in a line. I crouched down and each one gave me a kiss on each cheek and a hug with a "Buen Viaje Seno!" in their adorable 4 year old voices. One was even crying because she doesnt do well with change.
Between my roommates, friends, colleagues and students everyone truly expressed a thoughtfulness that left me awestruck at the kindness of the human race, and what a blessing the past year had been for me. On the same day I found out that my Project RiSA that was cocurrently holding a fundraiser at Crane Country Day School had raised more than 400 toothbrushes in 2 weeks, and had published a letter about the program in their newsletter. Generosity. Children inspired to make change by giving a toothbrush to a child in need in Latin America. Needless to say I was pretty overwhelmed by the end of the week, after Jen had prepared a complete photo album of our year. And I got a grand bon voyage by the 3 most important people in my life, who helped me carry my obscene amount of luggage to the train station - complete with a pastry from my favorite bakery, and tissues that say "Be Happy" (a little irony for you.)
The generosity continued as people helped me off the train with my stuff. The girl I was staying with for a night in Madrid (a fellow pilgrim on my hiking trail) met me at the train station to help with my luggage. Her and her boyfriend comforted me, and listened to my stories that had so harshly and suddenly become in the past tense. And they amazingly took the metro with me ALL the way to the airport the next day with my belongings. Generosity.
Remarkably listening to more english music than I had in months, watching 3 movies about New York on the plane, and sitting next to a girl that was so excited to go home did the trick. 8 hours after mounting the plane in one home - I got off in another. My new home - New York City. That afternoon I was walking around Central Park, and down a row of eateries that included mexican, sushi, ethiopian, italian, thai, and chinese I felt the change. (I picked Mexican). The diversity was impressive.
After finagling the housing situation (my mom working her charm) and running down to Time Square for some tourism it was time for orientation and classes. I am already heck high in group projects, chemistry labs, and environmental policy analysis. And surrounded with a kind, intelligent, and laid back group of colleagues. Pictures are on the wall. Tomorrow is about getting food in the fridge. And the Spain lifestyle has gotten into my veins. So I imagine that Saturday will be about buckling down and beginning the real work. Not so many tapas these days. But a lot of learning. And really no time to be excessively nostalgic. My past year has been whittled down to:
Student: "So what were you doing before this program?"
ME: "The past year I taught English in Spain."
Student: "Where in Spain?"
ME: "Andalucia, the south. In a little pueblo without a stoplight."
Student: "Wow, that is so cool!"
ME: "Yeah it was really wonderful." (I beam)
Except for the recent encounter with Mr Madrid. The Spaniard I met at the ice cream social in the International House - where I am living. He knew Ronda. "A very romantic city" Yes indeed.
Who knows what we will be saying or where we will be after this next year. Time will tell, I suppose.
As of yesterday I made a 100% successful transition from country mouse life in Spain, to life as a city mouse in New York City.
The last week in Ronda was absolutely touching. The generosity. Aside from being a teary mess for nearly 9 days straight, saying goodbye to each piece of my life in Spain one by one - with outings, barbecues, play dates, lunches, and more - was difficult, to say the least. Leaving the serenity as well as the people. It was a beautiful reality.
Between my last day at the colegio, elementary school, with the little ones today where i received so many slobbery kisses, pictures, drawings, a song, a poem, and a lovely book of Ronda signed by the teachers, i feel so moved by the generosity and kindness of everyone in my life.
The director had written "She arrived an American, and is leaving a Rondena."
The teacher of the 4 year olds explained to the students that I was leaving, and going to a city far away that is very very big - with buildings that seem like they touch the sky. And she said "So, we need to say goodbye." They got in a line. I crouched down and each one gave me a kiss on each cheek and a hug with a "Buen Viaje Seno!" in their adorable 4 year old voices. One was even crying because she doesnt do well with change.
Between my roommates, friends, colleagues and students everyone truly expressed a thoughtfulness that left me awestruck at the kindness of the human race, and what a blessing the past year had been for me. On the same day I found out that my Project RiSA that was cocurrently holding a fundraiser at Crane Country Day School had raised more than 400 toothbrushes in 2 weeks, and had published a letter about the program in their newsletter. Generosity. Children inspired to make change by giving a toothbrush to a child in need in Latin America. Needless to say I was pretty overwhelmed by the end of the week, after Jen had prepared a complete photo album of our year. And I got a grand bon voyage by the 3 most important people in my life, who helped me carry my obscene amount of luggage to the train station - complete with a pastry from my favorite bakery, and tissues that say "Be Happy" (a little irony for you.)
The generosity continued as people helped me off the train with my stuff. The girl I was staying with for a night in Madrid (a fellow pilgrim on my hiking trail) met me at the train station to help with my luggage. Her and her boyfriend comforted me, and listened to my stories that had so harshly and suddenly become in the past tense. And they amazingly took the metro with me ALL the way to the airport the next day with my belongings. Generosity.
Remarkably listening to more english music than I had in months, watching 3 movies about New York on the plane, and sitting next to a girl that was so excited to go home did the trick. 8 hours after mounting the plane in one home - I got off in another. My new home - New York City. That afternoon I was walking around Central Park, and down a row of eateries that included mexican, sushi, ethiopian, italian, thai, and chinese I felt the change. (I picked Mexican). The diversity was impressive.
After finagling the housing situation (my mom working her charm) and running down to Time Square for some tourism it was time for orientation and classes. I am already heck high in group projects, chemistry labs, and environmental policy analysis. And surrounded with a kind, intelligent, and laid back group of colleagues. Pictures are on the wall. Tomorrow is about getting food in the fridge. And the Spain lifestyle has gotten into my veins. So I imagine that Saturday will be about buckling down and beginning the real work. Not so many tapas these days. But a lot of learning. And really no time to be excessively nostalgic. My past year has been whittled down to:
Student: "So what were you doing before this program?"
ME: "The past year I taught English in Spain."
Student: "Where in Spain?"
ME: "Andalucia, the south. In a little pueblo without a stoplight."
Student: "Wow, that is so cool!"
ME: "Yeah it was really wonderful." (I beam)
Except for the recent encounter with Mr Madrid. The Spaniard I met at the ice cream social in the International House - where I am living. He knew Ronda. "A very romantic city" Yes indeed.
Who knows what we will be saying or where we will be after this next year. Time will tell, I suppose.
Monday, May 5, 2008
Regular Life in Ronda
Regular life in Ronda - that statement in and of itself is a little ironic. What is regular life in Ronda? And what is a regular life for a girl who has lived so many places in the past several year? What is regular life for a girl that work 15 hours a week in Spain?
I'll tell you. Regular life is beautiful.
Truth be told I haven't spent a weekend in Ronda in nearly 3 months. Starting with Portugal, to the Camino de Santiago, to most recently the beach, fairs and festivals. My life as a hiker has been replaced by that of tapas eating, cerveza drinking, and being a Springtime Queen. My wasitline has certainly noticed the change.
I am loving teaching. It doesn't feel like work. It is play. I have to remind myself that I am getting PAID for this. The kids are a delight. And I find myself coming home and proudly sharing what I taught in class to the students. For instance, I maintained order for the entire half hour with the 30 4 year olds last week. No one on the floor, or standing on chairs. Lots of games and singing. And I have started a pen pal correspondence with my old elementary school in California, which has turned out to be a tremendous success. The students of 3rd, 4th, and 5th grades write letters, and have brought in fotos. And the normal "hello a.tianna" that greets me when I enter the class has been replaced with questions about the 'cartas'.
The students at the language school expect me to sing in every class. And I almost always meet their expectation. Paid to sing. Paid to talk. Paid to play.
And with plenty of time to go out for coffee with a friend - where the waiters know us and with a view of the beautiful mountains. Time to go out for tapas tapear nearly every night. Thinking back on the first tapas experience the menu was an absolute mystery to me. Is this really spanish? I didnt understand anything. But now the meatballs, bulls tails, potato salad with crab and octupus, fried calamari sandwiches and mushroom platters are second nature to me. My tapas of choice are shrimp skewers, seranitos - a sandwich with pork loin, roasted peppers and iberian ham AND Patatas Rellenas. - Fried potato balls filled with meat, dipped in mayo. (i've learned to ask for extra mayo). I tapear most days.
Springtime has arrived and I am trying to keep up on my personal project risa, columbia, a pen pal program and enjoy the sunshine. I have finally hit that place where you can't imagine not speaking spanish everyday. I think in spanish often. I woke up this morning after a dream in spanish. And am feeling good about my level of language. And I smile when I think about how often I said before I came here that I didnt want to adopt a Spanish accent (I preferred my chilean) But here I am so thick in andalucian slang that many spanish words are a necessity in english as well.
I have a lot of Andalucian pride. And I have been struggling the past couple weeks with tring to remember why exactly I would ever leave this paradise - where the sunshines, the beer is cold, and I sing songs with the kiddies all day. Here's to living the dream!
All the quirks that had surprised me 8 months ago are second nature. So much that I am afraid to go back. I go days at a time without speaking english. It is normal to walk everywhere, run into several people on the way to the grocery store, greet people with two kisses, walk down to the bridge to enjoy the sunset. The quality of life here is SO high.
And now comes the nostalgia. The painful goodbyes. The 'lasts'. The transition. The packing. The hugs. The tears. With 10 days left I am overwhelmed. Where did it all go? How did those 8 months fly? Its not fair. I want more. I want to be able to bottle up Ronda time and come back to this paradise when I need a break this next year. And it isnt that I am not looking forward to my next chapter. I am looking forward to it very much. But that doesn't make this any easier to leave. Ronda is my home. And I love it.
I'll tell you. Regular life is beautiful.
Truth be told I haven't spent a weekend in Ronda in nearly 3 months. Starting with Portugal, to the Camino de Santiago, to most recently the beach, fairs and festivals. My life as a hiker has been replaced by that of tapas eating, cerveza drinking, and being a Springtime Queen. My wasitline has certainly noticed the change.
I am loving teaching. It doesn't feel like work. It is play. I have to remind myself that I am getting PAID for this. The kids are a delight. And I find myself coming home and proudly sharing what I taught in class to the students. For instance, I maintained order for the entire half hour with the 30 4 year olds last week. No one on the floor, or standing on chairs. Lots of games and singing. And I have started a pen pal correspondence with my old elementary school in California, which has turned out to be a tremendous success. The students of 3rd, 4th, and 5th grades write letters, and have brought in fotos. And the normal "hello a.tianna" that greets me when I enter the class has been replaced with questions about the 'cartas'.
The students at the language school expect me to sing in every class. And I almost always meet their expectation. Paid to sing. Paid to talk. Paid to play.
And with plenty of time to go out for coffee with a friend - where the waiters know us and with a view of the beautiful mountains. Time to go out for tapas tapear nearly every night. Thinking back on the first tapas experience the menu was an absolute mystery to me. Is this really spanish? I didnt understand anything. But now the meatballs, bulls tails, potato salad with crab and octupus, fried calamari sandwiches and mushroom platters are second nature to me. My tapas of choice are shrimp skewers, seranitos - a sandwich with pork loin, roasted peppers and iberian ham AND Patatas Rellenas. - Fried potato balls filled with meat, dipped in mayo. (i've learned to ask for extra mayo). I tapear most days.
Springtime has arrived and I am trying to keep up on my personal project risa, columbia, a pen pal program and enjoy the sunshine. I have finally hit that place where you can't imagine not speaking spanish everyday. I think in spanish often. I woke up this morning after a dream in spanish. And am feeling good about my level of language. And I smile when I think about how often I said before I came here that I didnt want to adopt a Spanish accent (I preferred my chilean) But here I am so thick in andalucian slang that many spanish words are a necessity in english as well.
I have a lot of Andalucian pride. And I have been struggling the past couple weeks with tring to remember why exactly I would ever leave this paradise - where the sunshines, the beer is cold, and I sing songs with the kiddies all day. Here's to living the dream!
All the quirks that had surprised me 8 months ago are second nature. So much that I am afraid to go back. I go days at a time without speaking english. It is normal to walk everywhere, run into several people on the way to the grocery store, greet people with two kisses, walk down to the bridge to enjoy the sunset. The quality of life here is SO high.
And now comes the nostalgia. The painful goodbyes. The 'lasts'. The transition. The packing. The hugs. The tears. With 10 days left I am overwhelmed. Where did it all go? How did those 8 months fly? Its not fair. I want more. I want to be able to bottle up Ronda time and come back to this paradise when I need a break this next year. And it isnt that I am not looking forward to my next chapter. I am looking forward to it very much. But that doesn't make this any easier to leave. Ronda is my home. And I love it.
Wednesday, April 9, 2008
Pilgrimage Trail (Camino de Santiago)
So the Camino de Santiago (pilgrimage trail) was ABSOLUTELY MAGICAL. I just got back, and i can not remember the last time i was so at peace with the world. Beside all my sins being washed away after arriving in the cathedral in Santiago... the whole experience was amazing. i am still on cloud nine about it.
The Camino de Santiago is a long trail that runs along the north of Spain - beginning in France and ending in the Spanish city, Santiago de Compostela. It is a pilgrimage trail seeped in centuries of history, as countless ordinary people have made there way to the huge Santiago cathedral from all over. Traditionally the pilgrims have religious motivation to make this journey, however it is recently popular for vacation, spiritual exploration or plain exercise. I spent the Semana Santa (easter week) doing the last Galician portion of the trail - 160 km or 105 miles. I was eager to have a solitary journey in nature for a week. A time for personal reflection and challenge. I packed my backpack, sleeping bag, and hiking snacks, took a 15 hour bus ride up north, and got dropped off, alone, in a village of about 75 people. The adventure began:
Day One: Well you wouldn't believe it. After getting my credentials (to be an official Pilgrim, passport and all), getting my picture taken at the trail head in O Cebreiro, filling up my water bottle and getting my first cheery "buen camino!" from the resturant owner - I hit the trail. . . And, LITERALLY 40 seconds in, it started to rain. "Gosh this is some hard rain" I thought. I look down. Its HAIL! Yes, like the rain that turns into ice. There is hail flying at my face, stuck to my pants, and whipping against my backpack that is filled with supplies for the week. Unbelievable. My poncho rips as I take it out in the wind to cover my packpack from getting soaked, and I quickly discover that the windbreaker is not waterproof, seeping through onto the one fleece I brought. I am already bundled up in the scarf and hat I brought and kicking myself for not bringing gloves. But how was I supposed to know it was going to hail?!
Things looked up as I met my first companion. Turns out she was from California and had been on the trail one month. Very kind San Diego tour guide, Lisa, who gave me the Camino scoop, and one of the 4 Americans I met the entire week. During my next stint of solitude my spirits balanced out the poor weather for a while, even after the zipper on the windbreaker broke, and I made it to my first Albergue!
Albergues are open refuges provided all along the trail, and are part of the spirit of people opening their homes to pilgrims. A public Albergue is like a very simple hostal, available to people who are 'official pilgrims'. Bunk beds in rooms of up to 40 people. No sheets. YMCA style showers. Hot water 50% of the time. One washing machine and dryer. 3 euros a night.
My first Albergue I was in a room of 4 people. Clothes were strewn all over the room in an attempt to dry out before the next day. After gaining feeling back in my fingers and toes and putting on clean dry socks my spirits were still high. I felt as if after a day like that one I could conquer just about anything in the world. 20 kms and 5 unsheltered hours in the elements. That night I was already thinking about how I want to do the trail again, but from a further distance.
That first night I wrote in my journal "It is comfortable to pass the time with a stranger in silence. It is nice to have the company on the trail but otherwise just taking it all in. The nature (the elements) and the journey. No profound thought has come yet. It has only been a day. But I am enjoying the peace. The concentration. And considering how nervous I was and the awful weather my spirit s are high. I just had a hotter shower than I do in Ronda. And the cobblestone and slate homes are absolutely picturesque. It feels like you are in a fairytale. I can't imagine living on this path and leading the tractor, water spigot life. But it is peaceful to observe others do it. See the adolescent boy backing up the tractor. Or the apron clad woman watching us pass from her doorway."
My contemplation and dinner of tuna and crackers on my bunk bed was interrupted by the grand entrance of my roommates. 3 boisterous Spanish males who would quickly become my best companions for the rest of my journey and terrific friends. Carlos, 50 yrs old, who has been on the trail for a month; Alex, age 34, from Barcelona; and Ramiro, age 20 a student in Madrid.
So after day one not only did I feel like I could conquer the world, but the weather also proved tolerable, and later in the week beautiful and sunny. The little stone villages we passed through were magical. And the people I met amazing.
I though this was going to be a very solitary physically strenuous experience. And it turned out to be just the opposite. I had very good training the past few months hiking in the mountainous terrain on Ronda, and felt good flying on the trail kilometer after kilometer. I also found the adjective "experienced" creeping up on me in the hiking world. I would never describe myself as a hiker in any serious fashion, but i had more experience that the large majority of people who were on the trail, and it is interesting to see the experiences I have pile upon each other.
Right from the start and no stop I met the MOST generous, kind, friendly, and down to earth, easy going people. I thought perhaps I would met some beautiful strong characters that would teach me a great deal... but what I found to me even more inspiring was meeting all these absolutely normal people who decided to do the trail. That in and of itself was inspiring. And that goes along with the hiking experience level. Lisa and I were laughing the last night about the difference from the US, where often to do something like this people would have all sorts of
This experience is what put me over the edge. I still don't really understand this country. Sometimes I feel like I am in a But I feel in love. I don't even know with what. With Spain? Not exactly. With an idea? Perhaps. But is that possible? And if so, what exactly do I find so enchanting? The Camino is a prototype of what I would like to duplicate and expand to be a plan for how to make the world a happy place. It was a place without competition. With deep kindess. Support.
the trail itself, from where i started was nearly 170 kms.. averaging 30 kms a day and we stayed in albergues.. very simple hostal. a public albergue is 3 euros. it has bunkbeds (you bring a sleeping bag) in rooms of 8, 12 or up to 40 people, shared bathrooms YMCA style, and sometimes a hot shower. then you hit the road bright and early (sometimes woke up at 5 am, sometimes 7 am ) and walked. and again.. i was surprised that although no especially profound thoughts came to me ... you are usually thinking about what to eat next, how many kilometers you have to go, blisters, the next hill, etc, it felt just as good to not think about anything.
and i was certainly not alone. i felt part of a family as we traveled each day with couples, old and young, individuals, to the same spot. often i would walk alone, or with a friend, or a little of the two. then in the afternoon shower, and eat a full course meal, wine and all. explore the city, etc.
it was beautiful. and arriving in santiago i was overwhelmed by the huge church FILLED with churchgoers, bishops and a real service. it was moving, even though i am not catholic.
and then today i arrived in sevilla after an overnight bus and i went to juanjo's house before catching the next bus to ronda.. and i met the sisters, nieces, aunts, parents, grandparents, and more aunt, and uncle, and had a nice lunch. here they don't do anything special on easter, they do it all the week before. the family visits were just a normal sunday thing. but it was nice for me to be with a family in easter.
all in all... absolutely amazing experience. i made friendship that i will keep. and i want to do it again.. but from a longer distance. there were two special moments,... one when i saw the most amazing rainbow i had ever seen .........and two, when we were climbing the last hill late in the day on the 40 km day to the last point before santiago, and the sun was setting and we could see the citylights over the hill with a beautiful sunset up above. magnificent. i can't remember ever feeling this joyful and at peace with the world.
The Camino de Santiago is a long trail that runs along the north of Spain - beginning in France and ending in the Spanish city, Santiago de Compostela. It is a pilgrimage trail seeped in centuries of history, as countless ordinary people have made there way to the huge Santiago cathedral from all over. Traditionally the pilgrims have religious motivation to make this journey, however it is recently popular for vacation, spiritual exploration or plain exercise. I spent the Semana Santa (easter week) doing the last Galician portion of the trail - 160 km or 105 miles. I was eager to have a solitary journey in nature for a week. A time for personal reflection and challenge. I packed my backpack, sleeping bag, and hiking snacks, took a 15 hour bus ride up north, and got dropped off, alone, in a village of about 75 people. The adventure began:
Day One: Well you wouldn't believe it. After getting my credentials (to be an official Pilgrim, passport and all), getting my picture taken at the trail head in O Cebreiro, filling up my water bottle and getting my first cheery "buen camino!" from the resturant owner - I hit the trail. . . And, LITERALLY 40 seconds in, it started to rain. "Gosh this is some hard rain" I thought. I look down. Its HAIL! Yes, like the rain that turns into ice. There is hail flying at my face, stuck to my pants, and whipping against my backpack that is filled with supplies for the week. Unbelievable. My poncho rips as I take it out in the wind to cover my packpack from getting soaked, and I quickly discover that the windbreaker is not waterproof, seeping through onto the one fleece I brought. I am already bundled up in the scarf and hat I brought and kicking myself for not bringing gloves. But how was I supposed to know it was going to hail?!
Things looked up as I met my first companion. Turns out she was from California and had been on the trail one month. Very kind San Diego tour guide, Lisa, who gave me the Camino scoop, and one of the 4 Americans I met the entire week. During my next stint of solitude my spirits balanced out the poor weather for a while, even after the zipper on the windbreaker broke, and I made it to my first Albergue!
Albergues are open refuges provided all along the trail, and are part of the spirit of people opening their homes to pilgrims. A public Albergue is like a very simple hostal, available to people who are 'official pilgrims'. Bunk beds in rooms of up to 40 people. No sheets. YMCA style showers. Hot water 50% of the time. One washing machine and dryer. 3 euros a night.
My first Albergue I was in a room of 4 people. Clothes were strewn all over the room in an attempt to dry out before the next day. After gaining feeling back in my fingers and toes and putting on clean dry socks my spirits were still high. I felt as if after a day like that one I could conquer just about anything in the world. 20 kms and 5 unsheltered hours in the elements. That night I was already thinking about how I want to do the trail again, but from a further distance.
That first night I wrote in my journal "It is comfortable to pass the time with a stranger in silence. It is nice to have the company on the trail but otherwise just taking it all in. The nature (the elements) and the journey. No profound thought has come yet. It has only been a day. But I am enjoying the peace. The concentration. And considering how nervous I was and the awful weather my spirit s are high. I just had a hotter shower than I do in Ronda. And the cobblestone and slate homes are absolutely picturesque. It feels like you are in a fairytale. I can't imagine living on this path and leading the tractor, water spigot life. But it is peaceful to observe others do it. See the adolescent boy backing up the tractor. Or the apron clad woman watching us pass from her doorway."
My contemplation and dinner of tuna and crackers on my bunk bed was interrupted by the grand entrance of my roommates. 3 boisterous Spanish males who would quickly become my best companions for the rest of my journey and terrific friends. Carlos, 50 yrs old, who has been on the trail for a month; Alex, age 34, from Barcelona; and Ramiro, age 20 a student in Madrid.
So after day one not only did I feel like I could conquer the world, but the weather also proved tolerable, and later in the week beautiful and sunny. The little stone villages we passed through were magical. And the people I met amazing.
I though this was going to be a very solitary physically strenuous experience. And it turned out to be just the opposite. I had very good training the past few months hiking in the mountainous terrain on Ronda, and felt good flying on the trail kilometer after kilometer. I also found the adjective "experienced" creeping up on me in the hiking world. I would never describe myself as a hiker in any serious fashion, but i had more experience that the large majority of people who were on the trail, and it is interesting to see the experiences I have pile upon each other.
Right from the start and no stop I met the MOST generous, kind, friendly, and down to earth, easy going people. I thought perhaps I would met some beautiful strong characters that would teach me a great deal... but what I found to me even more inspiring was meeting all these absolutely normal people who decided to do the trail. That in and of itself was inspiring. And that goes along with the hiking experience level. Lisa and I were laughing the last night about the difference from the US, where often to do something like this people would have all sorts of
This experience is what put me over the edge. I still don't really understand this country. Sometimes I feel like I am in a But I feel in love. I don't even know with what. With Spain? Not exactly. With an idea? Perhaps. But is that possible? And if so, what exactly do I find so enchanting? The Camino is a prototype of what I would like to duplicate and expand to be a plan for how to make the world a happy place. It was a place without competition. With deep kindess. Support.
the trail itself, from where i started was nearly 170 kms.. averaging 30 kms a day and we stayed in albergues.. very simple hostal. a public albergue is 3 euros. it has bunkbeds (you bring a sleeping bag) in rooms of 8, 12 or up to 40 people, shared bathrooms YMCA style, and sometimes a hot shower. then you hit the road bright and early (sometimes woke up at 5 am, sometimes 7 am ) and walked. and again.. i was surprised that although no especially profound thoughts came to me ... you are usually thinking about what to eat next, how many kilometers you have to go, blisters, the next hill, etc, it felt just as good to not think about anything.
and i was certainly not alone. i felt part of a family as we traveled each day with couples, old and young, individuals, to the same spot. often i would walk alone, or with a friend, or a little of the two. then in the afternoon shower, and eat a full course meal, wine and all. explore the city, etc.
it was beautiful. and arriving in santiago i was overwhelmed by the huge church FILLED with churchgoers, bishops and a real service. it was moving, even though i am not catholic.
and then today i arrived in sevilla after an overnight bus and i went to juanjo's house before catching the next bus to ronda.. and i met the sisters, nieces, aunts, parents, grandparents, and more aunt, and uncle, and had a nice lunch. here they don't do anything special on easter, they do it all the week before. the family visits were just a normal sunday thing. but it was nice for me to be with a family in easter.
all in all... absolutely amazing experience. i made friendship that i will keep. and i want to do it again.. but from a longer distance. there were two special moments,... one when i saw the most amazing rainbow i had ever seen .........and two, when we were climbing the last hill late in the day on the 40 km day to the last point before santiago, and the sun was setting and we could see the citylights over the hill with a beautiful sunset up above. magnificent. i can't remember ever feeling this joyful and at peace with the world.
Sunday, March 2, 2008
To the End of the World and Back - Portugal
Semana Blanca is an entire week off of school for the province I live in. No one could tell me exactly why... (and we have another entire week off in 2 weeks for Easter) but before asking too many questions my roommate, Jen, and I took off - For Portugal! Nothing like a vacation from your vacation life right?? :) Armed with Juanes, Nutella, a map of half the country, a 10 year old guidebook, and a gray rental car we had the greatest week long wonderland adventure in Portugal.
Now Portugal, I must tell you... is the BOMBDIGGITY....i have absolutely no idea why it is not the most raved about place in europe... and why not every student who "backpacks Europe" doesn't make it a must see stop. Portugal is in my new list of top 5 favorite countries, and the capital Lisbon, has found a place in my top 5 favorite cities. This country continued to impress me, and I remain baffled as to why it has not become a major stop in the backpacker circuit (that often includes Rome, Venice, Paris, Barcelona, London, Amsterdam, maybe Prague or Vienna).
Portugal is beautiful. The southern coast has untouched coves, cliffs, and sparkling. It has beautiful rocky coasts with pockets of white sand beaches and turquoise bays. Compared with the skyscrapper lined "Costa del Sol" of Spain, Portugal's Algarve coast is majestically raw natural beauty. Every place we went it seemed as if we had to tear ourselves away. With the car we were able to take random dirt roads to secluded beaches, spend afternoons exploring, or making friends with retired couples that travel all over in their RV.
The highlight of the week was arriving at The End of the World (according to life before Columbus sailed the ocean blue). It is the utter tip of Portugal, called Sagres. And let me tell you...There is NOTHING there!! it is a small undeveloped sleepy beach town (less than 2,000 people) surrounded by completely raw natural beauty. utterly breathtaking. Time feels like it just stops and there is a permeating energy that makes you feel as if years could slip by just dangling your feet over the water, attempting to communicate with fisherman, and packing a picnic to eat next to the lighthouse, in this serene environment.
Needless to say, it was difficult to tear ourselves away and head up the the country's capital. And we were skeptical as we approached and could see the giant expanse of a big city. But then we crossed a bridge identical to the Golden Gate bridge, and I suddenly warmed up to what continued to remind me tremendously of San Fransisco. After a few days there, I can confidently say that Portugal has an absolutely phenomenal capital city Lisbon. With street cable cars on the hilly streets, old colorful buildings, ornate balconies, it was just oozing with charm, grandiose plazas, wide boulevards, delicious pastry shops, and cute boys (think soulful hippies everywhere!)!! It seems to have such a healthy balance between young free spirited university students, suited professionals working in the government district, regular families, and the strong presence of elderly that is everywhere in Europe. To be fair, when I returned to Ronda, raving about Lisbon, people mentioned - but wasn't it dirty? And so yes, there were places that were seemingly rundown, and I had learned that there is a whole generation of elderly tenants in the old district have been living there for so long that they pay 10 euros a month in rent! And so there are places where poverty is present, but for a young American girl there is something romantic about the political graffiti on some buildings; the clotheslines hanging out on the balconies are picturesque in a way others find ordinary.
Right next door to Lisbon is Sintra, where the kings and important people had palaces to escape from citylife. Arrive at dusk and you feel like you just stepped into a real life Disneyland. There are palaces everywhere, and it is complete with a castle perched on the hilltop, palaces in unexpected places, and it is all enveloped by a beautiful rich green enchanted forests.
We escaped from life for an entire week. We sang in the car, ate tuna and crackers, slept in sketchy places, stocked up at 14 pastry shops in ONE day, and traveled dirt cheaply in that way you can only do when you are 22 and carefree. We had free bread, dinner at a community pig roast, liters of superbock cerveza, a whole almond pie. We were welcomed into the homes of random Portuguese women to stay, all the while attempting to communicate between our very own Spanish/Portuguese/English concoction. It was a beautiful week!
Now today I am leaving to do a Pilgrimage trail - the Camino de Santiago - this week by myself, for a spiritual experience. I leave in an hour. Better finish packing!!
pictures at: http://picasaweb.google.com/ascozzaro/PortugalToTheEndOfTheWorldAndBack
Now Portugal, I must tell you... is the BOMBDIGGITY....i have absolutely no idea why it is not the most raved about place in europe... and why not every student who "backpacks Europe" doesn't make it a must see stop. Portugal is in my new list of top 5 favorite countries, and the capital Lisbon, has found a place in my top 5 favorite cities. This country continued to impress me, and I remain baffled as to why it has not become a major stop in the backpacker circuit (that often includes Rome, Venice, Paris, Barcelona, London, Amsterdam, maybe Prague or Vienna).
Portugal is beautiful. The southern coast has untouched coves, cliffs, and sparkling. It has beautiful rocky coasts with pockets of white sand beaches and turquoise bays. Compared with the skyscrapper lined "Costa del Sol" of Spain, Portugal's Algarve coast is majestically raw natural beauty. Every place we went it seemed as if we had to tear ourselves away. With the car we were able to take random dirt roads to secluded beaches, spend afternoons exploring, or making friends with retired couples that travel all over in their RV.
The highlight of the week was arriving at The End of the World (according to life before Columbus sailed the ocean blue). It is the utter tip of Portugal, called Sagres. And let me tell you...There is NOTHING there!! it is a small undeveloped sleepy beach town (less than 2,000 people) surrounded by completely raw natural beauty. utterly breathtaking. Time feels like it just stops and there is a permeating energy that makes you feel as if years could slip by just dangling your feet over the water, attempting to communicate with fisherman, and packing a picnic to eat next to the lighthouse, in this serene environment.
Needless to say, it was difficult to tear ourselves away and head up the the country's capital. And we were skeptical as we approached and could see the giant expanse of a big city. But then we crossed a bridge identical to the Golden Gate bridge, and I suddenly warmed up to what continued to remind me tremendously of San Fransisco. After a few days there, I can confidently say that Portugal has an absolutely phenomenal capital city Lisbon. With street cable cars on the hilly streets, old colorful buildings, ornate balconies, it was just oozing with charm, grandiose plazas, wide boulevards, delicious pastry shops, and cute boys (think soulful hippies everywhere!)!! It seems to have such a healthy balance between young free spirited university students, suited professionals working in the government district, regular families, and the strong presence of elderly that is everywhere in Europe. To be fair, when I returned to Ronda, raving about Lisbon, people mentioned - but wasn't it dirty? And so yes, there were places that were seemingly rundown, and I had learned that there is a whole generation of elderly tenants in the old district have been living there for so long that they pay 10 euros a month in rent! And so there are places where poverty is present, but for a young American girl there is something romantic about the political graffiti on some buildings; the clotheslines hanging out on the balconies are picturesque in a way others find ordinary.
Right next door to Lisbon is Sintra, where the kings and important people had palaces to escape from citylife. Arrive at dusk and you feel like you just stepped into a real life Disneyland. There are palaces everywhere, and it is complete with a castle perched on the hilltop, palaces in unexpected places, and it is all enveloped by a beautiful rich green enchanted forests.
We escaped from life for an entire week. We sang in the car, ate tuna and crackers, slept in sketchy places, stocked up at 14 pastry shops in ONE day, and traveled dirt cheaply in that way you can only do when you are 22 and carefree. We had free bread, dinner at a community pig roast, liters of superbock cerveza, a whole almond pie. We were welcomed into the homes of random Portuguese women to stay, all the while attempting to communicate between our very own Spanish/Portuguese/English concoction. It was a beautiful week!
Now today I am leaving to do a Pilgrimage trail - the Camino de Santiago - this week by myself, for a spiritual experience. I leave in an hour. Better finish packing!!
pictures at: http://picasaweb.google.com/ascozzaro/PortugalToTheEndOfTheWorldAndBack
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Hiking: The Triple Threat
I have been hiking up a storm. I hike nearly every weekend. I love it.
What started off as innocent little hikes at first.. afternoon jaunts through the countryside.. have continued to get increasingly more strenuous and exciting.
My hiking group is definitely what Jen had coined a Triple Threat: Good exercise, good views, good company.
UNO: Good exercise.
The last long weekend (celebrating the Saint of Ronda - since every city has a saint of course) instead of running off to travel we stayed in town and did two long hikes. One was to the highest point in the region of Malaga with a couple buddies. It was about 8 hours and several miles to the top. The view was spectacular from the top - where you could see all the way to the ocean and look out over the mountains in the other direction.
Two days later we were off again, bright and early, to the Sierra Nevada - a couple hours away.. with a van full of friends from our hiking group. Nothing like seeing the sun rise to make you feel like you are getting a jump on the day. It was the best hike yet! .... 18 strenuous miles - we climbed nearly 2,000 feet, and reached an altitude of 11,000 feet.
It is pretty sweet bragging rights too when someone asks if you have been to X town to respond - oh yeah.. I walked there. :)
DOS: Good views. Out in nature, what could be better?
The view from the Sierra Nevada was absolutely spectacular. Snowcapped mountains.And no matter where you go.. it is just amazing. Turquoise lakes, undiscovered caves, lush greenery, rocky steep mountains. I have also learned history along the way from friends, and seen many roman poles that tell the direction and distance to neighboring landmarks. Photos can not capture the magnificent of a eagle with a 9 meter wingspan flying above your head.. or being the only person in sight in a deep cambering ravine. And there is something about being in nature that stirs your equilibrium and calms your soul. It gives you a sense of peace and a thrill all at once. It is a place to reflect and think but also just to be. To engage your sense in your surroundings entirely.
TRES: Good company. An awesome crew of Spanish speaking friends.
This group of hikers is phenomenal. People that are like minded in their enjoyment of nature and hiking, even if we come from many background. And they are just a very good time too. People come from all over for these hikes, traveling from Sevilla, Malaga and beyond. But the organization is in Ronda. So our core crew consists of the trip leaders, and founders. What started off as a group of guys that liked going hiking every weekend has expanded into this organization that gathers up to 60 hikers for some hikes. However, since the core crew is us 'Rondenos' we still go on our own unofficial hikes as well without so many people. Every hike finishes with a beer.. or several.. and lots of good cheer. Jen, Saskia and I have been given the nickname of the Super Nenas (super girls). And the born and raised rondenos are great people to practice our spanish with.
On the way back fro the Sierra Nevada we had a blast. I cannot remember laughing that hard in a long time. Among our silliness and singing along with the radio, we somehow got onto the subject of animal sounds. Animal sounds in spanish are different than those in english.
For example a dog in english says: woof woof. In spanish: wow wow.
Rooster in English: cook-ca-doodle-doo. In spanish: kee-ka-ke-ke-kee.
So pretty soon there was a car full of Jen, myself and eight 40 year old men singing Old McDonald (tio pepito in spanish) over and over until we started doing animals like owls and mice. Jen even had the entire car sing her university's football chant: Goooooo Dawgs! woof woof woof woof. I was keeled over with laughter for the rest of the trip.. where my new name suddenly became maricarmen. It was an exhausting a beautiful day.
The triple threat: Good exercise, good views, good company - has made for many good weekends and lots of good memories.
Now we no longer wait until after a hike to meet up for a cervecita .. it is guaranteed that there is always one of the crew at our new local hangout Las Caracoles, a tapas joint. I can't wait for the next excursion.
What started off as innocent little hikes at first.. afternoon jaunts through the countryside.. have continued to get increasingly more strenuous and exciting.
My hiking group is definitely what Jen had coined a Triple Threat: Good exercise, good views, good company.
UNO: Good exercise.
The last long weekend (celebrating the Saint of Ronda - since every city has a saint of course) instead of running off to travel we stayed in town and did two long hikes. One was to the highest point in the region of Malaga with a couple buddies. It was about 8 hours and several miles to the top. The view was spectacular from the top - where you could see all the way to the ocean and look out over the mountains in the other direction.
Two days later we were off again, bright and early, to the Sierra Nevada - a couple hours away.. with a van full of friends from our hiking group. Nothing like seeing the sun rise to make you feel like you are getting a jump on the day. It was the best hike yet! .... 18 strenuous miles - we climbed nearly 2,000 feet, and reached an altitude of 11,000 feet.
It is pretty sweet bragging rights too when someone asks if you have been to X town to respond - oh yeah.. I walked there. :)
DOS: Good views. Out in nature, what could be better?
The view from the Sierra Nevada was absolutely spectacular. Snowcapped mountains.And no matter where you go.. it is just amazing. Turquoise lakes, undiscovered caves, lush greenery, rocky steep mountains. I have also learned history along the way from friends, and seen many roman poles that tell the direction and distance to neighboring landmarks. Photos can not capture the magnificent of a eagle with a 9 meter wingspan flying above your head.. or being the only person in sight in a deep cambering ravine. And there is something about being in nature that stirs your equilibrium and calms your soul. It gives you a sense of peace and a thrill all at once. It is a place to reflect and think but also just to be. To engage your sense in your surroundings entirely.
TRES: Good company. An awesome crew of Spanish speaking friends.
This group of hikers is phenomenal. People that are like minded in their enjoyment of nature and hiking, even if we come from many background. And they are just a very good time too. People come from all over for these hikes, traveling from Sevilla, Malaga and beyond. But the organization is in Ronda. So our core crew consists of the trip leaders, and founders. What started off as a group of guys that liked going hiking every weekend has expanded into this organization that gathers up to 60 hikers for some hikes. However, since the core crew is us 'Rondenos' we still go on our own unofficial hikes as well without so many people. Every hike finishes with a beer.. or several.. and lots of good cheer. Jen, Saskia and I have been given the nickname of the Super Nenas (super girls). And the born and raised rondenos are great people to practice our spanish with.
On the way back fro the Sierra Nevada we had a blast. I cannot remember laughing that hard in a long time. Among our silliness and singing along with the radio, we somehow got onto the subject of animal sounds. Animal sounds in spanish are different than those in english.
For example a dog in english says: woof woof. In spanish: wow wow.
Rooster in English: cook-ca-doodle-doo. In spanish: kee-ka-ke-ke-kee.
So pretty soon there was a car full of Jen, myself and eight 40 year old men singing Old McDonald (tio pepito in spanish) over and over until we started doing animals like owls and mice. Jen even had the entire car sing her university's football chant: Goooooo Dawgs! woof woof woof woof. I was keeled over with laughter for the rest of the trip.. where my new name suddenly became maricarmen. It was an exhausting a beautiful day.
The triple threat: Good exercise, good views, good company - has made for many good weekends and lots of good memories.
Now we no longer wait until after a hike to meet up for a cervecita .. it is guaranteed that there is always one of the crew at our new local hangout Las Caracoles, a tapas joint. I can't wait for the next excursion.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Arab Africa for the Weekend
Africa for a weekend... Not a bad life I lead. :)
Early one Friday morning my roommate and I hit the road....... to Morocco. We took a train to the port town of Algecieras where we met up with the rest of the gang: 2 girls from Georgia, and 1 from Mexico. The posse: Five 22 year old girls.
Just a short 2 hour ferry ride later we had arrived on African soil. And it was a very refreshingly different couple days that lay ahead. We had gone with a package deal and had a hotel right on the skyscrapper strip facing the beach. We ate shawarma and kabobs (which the other girls had never had before), feasted on samples from every bakery we came across, learned much about the timeline of Muslim and Spanish history and how engaged and intertwined the storylines are.
LANGUAGE: Right after throwing out backpacks on the hotel bed, we heard the call to prayer from our hotel window, and eagerly peered out to see people drop to their knees and pray. We didn't see one person take note of the call at all. I learned a few Arab phrases, and was amazed at the linguistic abilities of many people we met. Morocco's national language in Arabic, but in school they learn everything in Arabic and French, so everyone speaks those two languages. And since it is so close to Spain, an impressive amount of people have a handle on Spanish as well. All the cat calls and shouts at us were in Spanish, for example, and tourist shop owners spoke Spanish. One afternoon we were sitting having lunch and fell into a conversation with a man who from his unkempt appearance one could easily assume he was homeless, or perhaps not very well educated. However, he spoke English impressively well... much better than many of my advanced students in Spain.
LANDSCAPE: The experience was full of similar surprises. For instance, when I thought Morocco... I anticipated an arid desert scantily clad with impoverished houses. And although further away from the coast that is true, I was amazed by the lush shrubbery, rolling green hills, and rich sparkling oceans. I was able to see the Strait of Gibraltar and where the Atlantic and Mediterranean Seas met. And in rural areas there were some creatively constructed homes with many sheep, donkeys and cows lining the roadside as well. One thing that struck me was the tremendous amount of construction that seemed to be taking place all over the rural areas. Some were cookie cutter sets of 10 timeshare looking buildings, others were grand private homes, and many that were in the early stages and you couldn't tell what shape they would take on. I imagine that this region so close to Spain, but much cheaper, and greener would be an ideal space for an adventurous couple to retire.. as is so popular across the channel in Spain for English couples.
DANGEROUS: Of course we had all been warned about danger. Men. And yes, we did encounter a good deal of cat calls and leers .. from the hundreds of men that sit at outdoor cafes sipping their mint tea. And most of all.. it riled up within me a sense of feminism that I didn't know I had. I had also assumed it to be best to accept cultural differences, and if women are happy in a culture.. we should let them be. But I could absolutely not imagine living in an environment that so openly has a hierarchy of genders. Where you can't go for an early morning run on the beach for fear of being abducted or what have you. Where you must wear conservative clothing and feel oddly ashamed to make too much eye contact. Where you mustn't walk to fast or assert yourself to strongly. Or at least that was my impression. Of course I think to myself that this is simply because I do not have a sufficient understanding of the roots of their beliefs. And to be fair.. the city was very progressive from my observations. The small towns and villages were more traditional. And regardless.. it seemed that this behavior is a matter of respect, rather than danger. I never felt as if I was in a very dangerous or uncomfortable situation in the sense that people had prepared me for. But of course it is always important to be cautious.
MARKET: We went to a small town on the beach for a day, Asilah, which was a lovely combination of whitewashed homes, glassy vast ocean, and stunning ornate doorways. Right outside of the old city there was a weekly market that was jam packed with vendors of nuts, herbs, clothes, sweets, books, kitchen supplies and more. Looking around I noticed... EVERY other women at the market was wearing a traditional dress and veil. We were the only foreigners in a sea of "mountain people" as they are called. People who live in the mountains and come into town to buy goods for the week.
SALESMANSHIP: When shopping for touristy trinkets, pottery, and camel-bone mirrors the shop owners and street vendors were remarkably aggressive in their sales tactics. Once you showed interest in something they would not give up questioning you -'how much do you want to pay?' etc. It made you think twice before asking how much something is. You better be pretty interested. Another thing is that... like mother like daughter... I had a moment when a salesman approached me with a collection of bracelets - and there was a flash in my head where I could envision one of those bracelets on my mother's dresser at home. The vision expanded to seeing my mother when she was my age wandering the streets of morocco or another similar place perusing the shops, talking with the vendors, taking in the sights and smells just as I was doing. I had a great understanding of how little changes, how the same products are still being sold, and how similar my Mother and I are in the way we approach the world.
All and all it was a lovely experience. I kissed a camel. I learned a little Arabic. I wiggled my feet in African sand. I bought pottery and underwear. And I had a taste of how big and different our world can feel.
Early one Friday morning my roommate and I hit the road....... to Morocco. We took a train to the port town of Algecieras where we met up with the rest of the gang: 2 girls from Georgia, and 1 from Mexico. The posse: Five 22 year old girls.
Just a short 2 hour ferry ride later we had arrived on African soil. And it was a very refreshingly different couple days that lay ahead. We had gone with a package deal and had a hotel right on the skyscrapper strip facing the beach. We ate shawarma and kabobs (which the other girls had never had before), feasted on samples from every bakery we came across, learned much about the timeline of Muslim and Spanish history and how engaged and intertwined the storylines are.
LANGUAGE: Right after throwing out backpacks on the hotel bed, we heard the call to prayer from our hotel window, and eagerly peered out to see people drop to their knees and pray. We didn't see one person take note of the call at all. I learned a few Arab phrases, and was amazed at the linguistic abilities of many people we met. Morocco's national language in Arabic, but in school they learn everything in Arabic and French, so everyone speaks those two languages. And since it is so close to Spain, an impressive amount of people have a handle on Spanish as well. All the cat calls and shouts at us were in Spanish, for example, and tourist shop owners spoke Spanish. One afternoon we were sitting having lunch and fell into a conversation with a man who from his unkempt appearance one could easily assume he was homeless, or perhaps not very well educated. However, he spoke English impressively well... much better than many of my advanced students in Spain.
LANDSCAPE: The experience was full of similar surprises. For instance, when I thought Morocco... I anticipated an arid desert scantily clad with impoverished houses. And although further away from the coast that is true, I was amazed by the lush shrubbery, rolling green hills, and rich sparkling oceans. I was able to see the Strait of Gibraltar and where the Atlantic and Mediterranean Seas met. And in rural areas there were some creatively constructed homes with many sheep, donkeys and cows lining the roadside as well. One thing that struck me was the tremendous amount of construction that seemed to be taking place all over the rural areas. Some were cookie cutter sets of 10 timeshare looking buildings, others were grand private homes, and many that were in the early stages and you couldn't tell what shape they would take on. I imagine that this region so close to Spain, but much cheaper, and greener would be an ideal space for an adventurous couple to retire.. as is so popular across the channel in Spain for English couples.
DANGEROUS: Of course we had all been warned about danger. Men. And yes, we did encounter a good deal of cat calls and leers .. from the hundreds of men that sit at outdoor cafes sipping their mint tea. And most of all.. it riled up within me a sense of feminism that I didn't know I had. I had also assumed it to be best to accept cultural differences, and if women are happy in a culture.. we should let them be. But I could absolutely not imagine living in an environment that so openly has a hierarchy of genders. Where you can't go for an early morning run on the beach for fear of being abducted or what have you. Where you must wear conservative clothing and feel oddly ashamed to make too much eye contact. Where you mustn't walk to fast or assert yourself to strongly. Or at least that was my impression. Of course I think to myself that this is simply because I do not have a sufficient understanding of the roots of their beliefs. And to be fair.. the city was very progressive from my observations. The small towns and villages were more traditional. And regardless.. it seemed that this behavior is a matter of respect, rather than danger. I never felt as if I was in a very dangerous or uncomfortable situation in the sense that people had prepared me for. But of course it is always important to be cautious.
MARKET: We went to a small town on the beach for a day, Asilah, which was a lovely combination of whitewashed homes, glassy vast ocean, and stunning ornate doorways. Right outside of the old city there was a weekly market that was jam packed with vendors of nuts, herbs, clothes, sweets, books, kitchen supplies and more. Looking around I noticed... EVERY other women at the market was wearing a traditional dress and veil. We were the only foreigners in a sea of "mountain people" as they are called. People who live in the mountains and come into town to buy goods for the week.
SALESMANSHIP: When shopping for touristy trinkets, pottery, and camel-bone mirrors the shop owners and street vendors were remarkably aggressive in their sales tactics. Once you showed interest in something they would not give up questioning you -'how much do you want to pay?' etc. It made you think twice before asking how much something is. You better be pretty interested. Another thing is that... like mother like daughter... I had a moment when a salesman approached me with a collection of bracelets - and there was a flash in my head where I could envision one of those bracelets on my mother's dresser at home. The vision expanded to seeing my mother when she was my age wandering the streets of morocco or another similar place perusing the shops, talking with the vendors, taking in the sights and smells just as I was doing. I had a great understanding of how little changes, how the same products are still being sold, and how similar my Mother and I are in the way we approach the world.
All and all it was a lovely experience. I kissed a camel. I learned a little Arabic. I wiggled my feet in African sand. I bought pottery and underwear. And I had a taste of how big and different our world can feel.
Sunday, January 27, 2008
El Remolino - The Whirlwind Tour with Nick
I have been fortunate the past month to not have a moment to write. I have been living, rather than reflecting, and it feels good. There is so much to tell that I don't even know where to begin, but I have gotten a couple blog requests (which I suspect are just from my Mother) so I decided to sit down and see how to paint the picture of the last month... and do it justice.
So my brother came to visit. Nick. Just in time for Christmas. We celebrated with an old teacher/friend, Laura, and her family in Madrid who were so generous and it was magnificent. We ate spanish tortillas, fish soup, giant celery looking vegetables, and even 400 euro cured ham! The family was a delight, and we got a good tour of the city, the central park, nativity scenes, street musicians, and meet lots of extended that came over for villancico (christmas carols) and a Christmas day feast. At one point during the meal everyone turned to us and asked us to sing our city's song. Our song?? Ya know.. the song of Santa Barbara. Before we even had time to explain that our city didn't have a song.. they began to demonstrate with their village's song. And then one person would start to sing another traditional song, and not half a line later the whole table would have joined in... Minus the chimney smoking grandmother to my right - who was in tears. Santa Claus even brought me a sleeping bag too!! As our first Christmas away from home I believe it was a successful and very Merry Christmas in Espana.
Then the whirlwind tour began... and my brother and I proceeded to walk further than any Spaniard has ever walked and travel more than any Spaniard has ever fathomed. We saw so much you would think our eyeball might turn into marmalade. The route included the following: Madrid, Toledo, Sevilla, Ronda, Granada, Valencia & Barcelona.... and if you know a little bit of Spanish geography, you know the remolino nature of the two weeks.
We saw more artwork than your mind can saturate: from the national museum El Prado to the Picasso Museum, we saw Dali, Goya, Valazquez, Sorolla, El Greco and more. By then end of the trip we were able to tie it together, by just having seen the works that inspired cubism for Picasso a few days before.
Between reading our Lonely Planet and musuem sign posts our minds were swimming in 13th century this & 9th century that. "Although the palace was built in the 8th century, you can see that the facade has the moorish touch of the 12th century, and was later taken over by the christians, when the kings bedroom was added on in the 14th century..." Sometimes we made up our own commentary when we thought that the others didn't suffice. Other commentary is just too good to make up. "Now, this vibrant marketplace is a must see. It was the centerpiece of the city in the early 18th century, and there were riots when the city council threatened to tear it down in the 1820s. With 237 booths of fresh vegetables, meats and fish, it is the largest of its kind today in northern Spain and still is the meeting place for local farmers every Thursday to discuss water irrigation disputes, as it has been the past 200 years." Mom once used the word jadded after I described what we'd been up to: " Ya know, we saw some cathedrals, some arabic fotresses and palaces. We saw christopher columbus' tomb. Its been pretty cool." :)
In both Sevilla and Ronda we had beautiful soul breakfasts everyday on the balcony - cooked by our master chef Nick - omelettes, manchego cheese, peach juice, fresh bread.
We fought the urge to go to one of the MANY Starbucks lining the main street of Sevilla... nestled in between the 14th century Cathedral and the 10th century Alcazar -Arabic palace/fostress. And so we settled for a midday snack at the jam packed churros joint in the heart of the shopping district. Hundreds of fresh churros and thick creamy hot chocolate were flying out of the place every 4 minutes!
Sevilla has a magnificent Plaza de Espana which happened to be holding a world-renowned Belen (city of Bethlehem scene) comprised of hand made figurines, real running water and lights that shift from night to day. It is a year round project to build the Belen for Christmas every year! We saw a groovin' live flamenco performance in an old coal factory and happened to run into 2 people we knew!! Just a few days after we ran into someone else in a pub in Madrid! Small world.
In Ronda Nick got to see my little world. With students at the grocery store calling to me "Senorita!" or running into students at the bar who invite us to sing villancicos. We also got out into the countryside for a hike through the valley and the olive trees. Nick was enthralled by the craftsmanship of the giant old doors that lined the streets of Ronda. I am more of a cobblestone street kind of girl. He also discovered the charming reality of winter in Ronda - it gets cold. Our apartment had a true Arctic stream for our running water (because we didnt have propane for hot water) and an iceberg tile floor. Needless to say - when we went out to dinner one night at an italian restaurant with heating - we didn't want to leave.
It was two filled with bus rides - bus rides that held brother sister quality time, reading, journal writing, sleeping (nothin' like a good ole overnight bus), eating, and earfuls of old Andalucian men talking about olive picking, the drought, and those gosh darn new gadgets the young people have to make olive picking easier. Our conversations consisted more of life, "different cultures, different practices," personal Preferences, the necessity of dreaming big, and meeting movers and shakers.
For New Years - we went to Granada with Jen. It could be described as nothing less than Epic. New Years Eve day - A day of touring the sights, eating shawarma, taking pictures. and taking hot showers (quite the novelty) in our hostel - that yes, was indeed called Funky. :-)
After a sound siesta we woke up with just enough time to race through the narrowing winding streets up and up and up to the Mirador San Nicolas for the last sunset of 2007!! The sun set over the city, lighting up the Alhambra and framed by the snowcapped Sierra Nevada in the background. When the sun finally tucked just below the skyline the crowd erupted in cheers and applause, all to the soundtrack of a flamenco guitarist playing tunes at the base of a fountain in the plaza.
The night had just begun, as we wrote our reflections on the terrace of Funky Hostal, and each took turns sharing our New Years Resolutions with our roommates - Mark, a missionary from Michigan teaching history in Ukraine, and Regina, a girl from Singapore who, like most of her friends, is more comfortable speaking English than Chinese. Bearing 65 cent wine, more shawarmas, our red underwear (good luck in Spain) and a purse full of grapes, we hiked down to the Ayudamiento plaza to hail in the New Year. The tradition in Spain is to eat 12 grapes at midnight - one with every strike of the clock. So we did just that. There was near silence as hundreds of people packed into the plaza stuffed grape after grape into their mouth. Very cool. Then came the fireworks, the grocery cart filled with champagne... and the Spanish rock concert took the stage. Nick and I busted out our swing moves, our salsa, flamenco... we showed Espana how to boogie. Until the wee hours of the morning. Then it was another shawarma and off to bed. Feliz Ano Nuevo! 2008.
With backpacks in tow, we barreled on to Valencia and Barcelona for the grand finale of our whirlwind viaje. In Barcelona we stayed in a mega-hostal with 400 beds! Our room had 12 beds - mostly filled with Australians. And it was quite the change of scenery from little Ronda where my roommate is literally the only other native english speaker in town. Lots of English. Lots of traveling stories. And it made me feel very fortunate that I have the opportunities I do to travel, see everything we have seen, and meet other travelers. To be a part of the young packpacking world. We saw lots of Gaudi architecture, the famous Las Ramblas, and I took a little trip down memory lane to my first independent adventure with Tara - 7 years ago (gasp!) when we spent part of a summer in Barcelona taking Spanish courses and adventure-seeking. As many people say - Barcelona is much more of a cosmopolitan European city - rather than a Spanish city, so although it gave our tour a sense of well-roundedness - it made me realize what an authentic 'spanish experience' I am having in tipico little Ronda. We also made an Epic hostal dinner (master chef Nick, again) of pasta, salad and Spanish vino for a stellar 2.60 euros. Can't beat that. mmm.
After one last night of rockin out (read: enter techno club. begin a dance party) Nick headed back across the Atlantic, and I went down to Ronda. My train experience was complete with a fist fight in my train car at 2:30 am (you took my f**8ing bag!.... ); 8 conductors trying to settle things between the hooligans; and falling asleep again next to my seat mate - a 4 foot tall African gourd instrument.
Finally in the morning feasting my eyes on pretty little Ronda - it felt good to be home.
So my brother came to visit. Nick. Just in time for Christmas. We celebrated with an old teacher/friend, Laura, and her family in Madrid who were so generous and it was magnificent. We ate spanish tortillas, fish soup, giant celery looking vegetables, and even 400 euro cured ham! The family was a delight, and we got a good tour of the city, the central park, nativity scenes, street musicians, and meet lots of extended that came over for villancico (christmas carols) and a Christmas day feast. At one point during the meal everyone turned to us and asked us to sing our city's song. Our song?? Ya know.. the song of Santa Barbara. Before we even had time to explain that our city didn't have a song.. they began to demonstrate with their village's song. And then one person would start to sing another traditional song, and not half a line later the whole table would have joined in... Minus the chimney smoking grandmother to my right - who was in tears. Santa Claus even brought me a sleeping bag too!! As our first Christmas away from home I believe it was a successful and very Merry Christmas in Espana.
Then the whirlwind tour began... and my brother and I proceeded to walk further than any Spaniard has ever walked and travel more than any Spaniard has ever fathomed. We saw so much you would think our eyeball might turn into marmalade. The route included the following: Madrid, Toledo, Sevilla, Ronda, Granada, Valencia & Barcelona.... and if you know a little bit of Spanish geography, you know the remolino nature of the two weeks.
We saw more artwork than your mind can saturate: from the national museum El Prado to the Picasso Museum, we saw Dali, Goya, Valazquez, Sorolla, El Greco and more. By then end of the trip we were able to tie it together, by just having seen the works that inspired cubism for Picasso a few days before.
Between reading our Lonely Planet and musuem sign posts our minds were swimming in 13th century this & 9th century that. "Although the palace was built in the 8th century, you can see that the facade has the moorish touch of the 12th century, and was later taken over by the christians, when the kings bedroom was added on in the 14th century..." Sometimes we made up our own commentary when we thought that the others didn't suffice. Other commentary is just too good to make up. "Now, this vibrant marketplace is a must see. It was the centerpiece of the city in the early 18th century, and there were riots when the city council threatened to tear it down in the 1820s. With 237 booths of fresh vegetables, meats and fish, it is the largest of its kind today in northern Spain and still is the meeting place for local farmers every Thursday to discuss water irrigation disputes, as it has been the past 200 years." Mom once used the word jadded after I described what we'd been up to: " Ya know, we saw some cathedrals, some arabic fotresses and palaces. We saw christopher columbus' tomb. Its been pretty cool." :)
In both Sevilla and Ronda we had beautiful soul breakfasts everyday on the balcony - cooked by our master chef Nick - omelettes, manchego cheese, peach juice, fresh bread.
We fought the urge to go to one of the MANY Starbucks lining the main street of Sevilla... nestled in between the 14th century Cathedral and the 10th century Alcazar -Arabic palace/fostress. And so we settled for a midday snack at the jam packed churros joint in the heart of the shopping district. Hundreds of fresh churros and thick creamy hot chocolate were flying out of the place every 4 minutes!
Sevilla has a magnificent Plaza de Espana which happened to be holding a world-renowned Belen (city of Bethlehem scene) comprised of hand made figurines, real running water and lights that shift from night to day. It is a year round project to build the Belen for Christmas every year! We saw a groovin' live flamenco performance in an old coal factory and happened to run into 2 people we knew!! Just a few days after we ran into someone else in a pub in Madrid! Small world.
In Ronda Nick got to see my little world. With students at the grocery store calling to me "Senorita!" or running into students at the bar who invite us to sing villancicos. We also got out into the countryside for a hike through the valley and the olive trees. Nick was enthralled by the craftsmanship of the giant old doors that lined the streets of Ronda. I am more of a cobblestone street kind of girl. He also discovered the charming reality of winter in Ronda - it gets cold. Our apartment had a true Arctic stream for our running water (because we didnt have propane for hot water) and an iceberg tile floor. Needless to say - when we went out to dinner one night at an italian restaurant with heating - we didn't want to leave.
It was two filled with bus rides - bus rides that held brother sister quality time, reading, journal writing, sleeping (nothin' like a good ole overnight bus), eating, and earfuls of old Andalucian men talking about olive picking, the drought, and those gosh darn new gadgets the young people have to make olive picking easier. Our conversations consisted more of life, "different cultures, different practices," personal Preferences, the necessity of dreaming big, and meeting movers and shakers.
For New Years - we went to Granada with Jen. It could be described as nothing less than Epic. New Years Eve day - A day of touring the sights, eating shawarma, taking pictures. and taking hot showers (quite the novelty) in our hostel - that yes, was indeed called Funky. :-)
After a sound siesta we woke up with just enough time to race through the narrowing winding streets up and up and up to the Mirador San Nicolas for the last sunset of 2007!! The sun set over the city, lighting up the Alhambra and framed by the snowcapped Sierra Nevada in the background. When the sun finally tucked just below the skyline the crowd erupted in cheers and applause, all to the soundtrack of a flamenco guitarist playing tunes at the base of a fountain in the plaza.
The night had just begun, as we wrote our reflections on the terrace of Funky Hostal, and each took turns sharing our New Years Resolutions with our roommates - Mark, a missionary from Michigan teaching history in Ukraine, and Regina, a girl from Singapore who, like most of her friends, is more comfortable speaking English than Chinese. Bearing 65 cent wine, more shawarmas, our red underwear (good luck in Spain) and a purse full of grapes, we hiked down to the Ayudamiento plaza to hail in the New Year. The tradition in Spain is to eat 12 grapes at midnight - one with every strike of the clock. So we did just that. There was near silence as hundreds of people packed into the plaza stuffed grape after grape into their mouth. Very cool. Then came the fireworks, the grocery cart filled with champagne... and the Spanish rock concert took the stage. Nick and I busted out our swing moves, our salsa, flamenco... we showed Espana how to boogie. Until the wee hours of the morning. Then it was another shawarma and off to bed. Feliz Ano Nuevo! 2008.
With backpacks in tow, we barreled on to Valencia and Barcelona for the grand finale of our whirlwind viaje. In Barcelona we stayed in a mega-hostal with 400 beds! Our room had 12 beds - mostly filled with Australians. And it was quite the change of scenery from little Ronda where my roommate is literally the only other native english speaker in town. Lots of English. Lots of traveling stories. And it made me feel very fortunate that I have the opportunities I do to travel, see everything we have seen, and meet other travelers. To be a part of the young packpacking world. We saw lots of Gaudi architecture, the famous Las Ramblas, and I took a little trip down memory lane to my first independent adventure with Tara - 7 years ago (gasp!) when we spent part of a summer in Barcelona taking Spanish courses and adventure-seeking. As many people say - Barcelona is much more of a cosmopolitan European city - rather than a Spanish city, so although it gave our tour a sense of well-roundedness - it made me realize what an authentic 'spanish experience' I am having in tipico little Ronda. We also made an Epic hostal dinner (master chef Nick, again) of pasta, salad and Spanish vino for a stellar 2.60 euros. Can't beat that. mmm.
After one last night of rockin out (read: enter techno club. begin a dance party) Nick headed back across the Atlantic, and I went down to Ronda. My train experience was complete with a fist fight in my train car at 2:30 am (you took my f**8ing bag!.... ); 8 conductors trying to settle things between the hooligans; and falling asleep again next to my seat mate - a 4 foot tall African gourd instrument.
Finally in the morning feasting my eyes on pretty little Ronda - it felt good to be home.
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