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.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
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.
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