nearing the end

True to form, I have done a horrific job at keeping up with this blog.  Right now, I am at a subpar (service-wise) hostel in Florence, using free internet.  Tomorrow we go to the Uffizi and leave for Rome, our last destination, in the evening.  It’s been almost three weeks since we’ve begun traveling, and I have been in Europe now for exactly four months.  Four months sounds a lot longer than three just by default, as if passing that little number somehow entitles you to more experience and time than perspective would suggest.  Since we’ve begun our Eurotrip on December 18th, we’ve been to Amsterdam, Paris, Prague, Budapest, Vienna, Munich, and now Florence.  And although that sounds like a lot and I wish we had more time in certain places (Paris) and a little less in others (Prague, Budapest), everything feels a lot more distinct that I would have imagined.  There’s been little internet access, especially the free kind, and many keyboards that I had to adjust to.  German keyboards switch the y and z letters, and French ones are just all over the place. 

I’ve done my fair share of waking up at ungodly hours.  Travel logs show sleeping overnight on the floor in the terminal (not the gate) of the Madrid airport while trying not to freeze and then ‘waking up’ at 4:30 to get into a crazy line for EasyJet.  We left snowy Amsterdam by waking up at 4 AM yet again to take the train to Paris, only to find that 1) the night buses weren’t running and 2) we had to pay 30 euro to get a taxi to the station.  Then, our train was delayed.  After leaving Paris for Prague at (yet again) 4-5 AM, I think I’ve got night traveling down.  Luckily, our other situations weren’t quite as dire on my sleep schedule.  Two nights ago we took a sleeper from Munich to Florence, which housed about six people in a space that was maybe a fourth the size of my dorm room at school.  On the train, unable to sleep due to excessive heat\cold\noise, I randomly started to remember the strangest things, from high school, middle school, etc.  Maybe it’s the clarity of mind brought on by weeks with poor internet access.  In other words, I was a little less on edge, finally.

But of course, things come to an end.  The realities of having to apply for internships, studying for the LSAT, having to do real work at school, and keeping track of extracurriculars are looming ahead, as always.  Everyone knows, of course, that this is what happens when study abroad ends, and this experience becomes something so encapsulated that sometimes I already feel like it’s just some random memory.  Best to enjoy the moment.

My last night in Spain was full of, what else, horrible coincidence and Voltaire-quality irony.  After having been without internet access yet again for two weeks, it came back that afternoon.  Of course, I could not actually enjoy it, since I was finishing up packing and trying to say goodbye.  Since my bedroom wasn’t heated, I slept in the next day’s clothing, socks, and my winter jacket.  Still froze to death, unfortunately.  It’s strange to think that I won’t be going back to Sevilla, that the first day there was so many months ago, that all you have are photos and random souvenirs.  For a more coherent goodbye, I think Rebecca’s post was better.  I don’t really know what to say about Spain- especially now that I’ve been elsewhere in Europe and seen places that are significantly less beautiful but with a signficantly better attitude about it.  Such is the trade-off that you get, though.  Italy is similar, the same kind of streets, the same trashy teenagers, a more similar language.  It’s probably too soon for me to actually think about what happened.  Maybe by the time I have to study for next semester’s midterms, my eyesight worsening in the library, hoping for even an hour of free time, I’ll think back to watching Glee with Colleen, obsessing over Mad Men, tapas, constantly packing for over 15 trips during the course of the semester… it’s been real.  A horrible sign-off, but that’s all I have.  For now.

…it’s been a while…

To quote Staind (sans e).  Clearly, I am not the blogging type.  Or, at least, the consistently blogging type.

My internet was sadly out for over three weeks, but of course I have been out of it for far longer.  Since the last time I deigned to record something online, I’ve been to Salamanca, Segovia, Ávila, Granada, Morocco, Santiago de la Compostela, & La Coruña.  This weekend, heading off to Portugal (Lisbon).

I’ll only be in Sevilla for another month or so, and it’s strange to think about.  The whole concept of ‘going abroad’ has been this solid block of time, an entity that one rarely considers in the framework of regular time.  And, considering how it’s been consistently in the 80s and 90s temperature-wise until this week, it’s easy to fall into the mindset that time isn’t even passing here.  Still, the inevitable catches up to us- I’m sitting in my room with the washer (which runs for about 2 hours each time) humming outside, decked out in a sweatshirt and shoes starting to break apart.  Behind me are three midterms, three independent weekend vacations, and questionably improving spanish skills.

Last week I had to register for classes, which I conveniently believed to be the day after the day it was really was.  Disaster ensued, etc.  Another reminder of how life will taste by the time I get back to the US.  The paradox of living without constant stress is that you become complacent, and can’t actually consciously enjoy it.  I suppose now, with 5 weeks left to go, I’ll begin.

In mid-October, I went to Salamanca with Melanie and met up with Sophia.  A grand reunion, or something of the sort.  The city itself didn’t lend itself to its oft-rumored nightlife, mainly because of police crackdowns in the last few years.  Disappointing- I even got carded- what?  Still, the city was the first exposure I had to a Spanish city outside of Andalucia- a bit of a shock, really.  Not every city is rooted in some strange, kitschy antiquity.

Due to my (not-so) newfound laziness, the quality of photos will be lowered a bit… no time to upload them individually onto this site.

The streets of Salamanca.

We visited the Art Deco museum.  I loved the movement in this sculpture.

My inability to do justice to the plaza mayor.

Afterwards, we took a day trip to Segovia.  The main attraction there is the giant Roman aqueduct, which is pretty much a sight to behold.

We also visited the Alcazar, which is apparently what the Disney castle was based on.  However, apparently it was a reconstruction of the original thing.  Disappointing.

Our final day trip was to Ávila, which was definitely my favorite of the weekend.  The entire old city is enclosed within the old city walls, which resemble castle walls.  The inside is very quaint, peaceful, and delicious (yemas!)

The Salamanca trip was my first experience in a youth Hostel.  Strangely, I haven’t been in a room that big since.  This will definitely change in the upcoming weeks.  There were a few … interesting guests who complained/snored/otherwise amused us greatly.  Showers were a bit questionable, but so goes life.

Our next trip was to Morocco.  We decided to go without a guide, which apparently does not happen very often.  Overall, I didn’t find that sans-guide was much of a life-or-death hassle, although it could easily be, I suppose, for people who can’t take any responsibility for… noticing what’s going on around them.  We were in Tangier, a port city very close to Spain.  Upon arrival, a travel agency attempted to cheat us, but we had none of that, and headed to our hotel, which was an actual HOTEL with an amazing view:

I don’t have many photos of the bulk of our trip- which was traversing around the Medina until we were actually familiar with its giant maze.  In general, men screamed “sayonara!” and “konnichiwa!” at me & Melanie at every chance- I suppose Japanese tourists are a commonality.  Still, I wonder what purpose it serves.  I don’t particularly feel compelled to make a purchase, no matter what language they’re screaming at me in.  Then again, it’s just business.  Plus everything else I’m too ambivalent to want to deal with.  The streets were full of men- barely any women were out.  It also made eating out difficult and a tad awkward, since, by nighttime, the cafés are full of men sitting auditorium style and watching football on the television.

On the second day, after making some purchases at a more heart-warming exchange rate, we wandered into a more residential part of the city (probably ill-advised) and found ourselves at a precipice overlooking the port.  Ran into a couple of boys playing around who kept trying to talk to us and wanted us to take pictures.  Eventually, they tried to discourage us from going in further, because, apparently, our new favorite spot coincided with the meeting spot of the local mafia.  Comforting.  Now, I can say I’ve actually seen some form of a mafia and recognized it as such.  … …

Hopefully, after I get back from Portugal, I’ll write a bit about Granada, Galicia, and Lisboa.  For now, looking back at all the trips, it’s almost overwhelming how much I’ve done without actually ‘doing’ anything.  In Sevilla, I’ve reached the point where I feel like a resident (although not really, considering how everyone stares at me).  But we’ll be gone soon, and I wonder what’ll end up sticking with me more- all of these travels dispersed through so many places, things that almost feel routine now whereas I’ll be hard-pressed for any vacation at all back in the States, or my time in Sevilla, banging my head against my desk during classes, eating tapas, going to the film festival, marveling at how the weather continues to dip up and down at will.  I do wish I were accomplishing some more tangible things here, but it seems like a lost cause at this point.  I think, when the time comes, I’ll be relieved to go back to the US.  More than anything else, the biggest difference I’ve noticed between European and American attitudes is their view of identity.  When we couch-surfed in Galicia, our host, Marcos, asked us what nationality we’d think he was if he was on the subway in the US.  We all said that we would assume he was just American, when the obvious European answer would be: Italian.  Even though, ironically, he’s actually Spanish.  Things to ponder, but not actually ponder, because of course we all knew that.  Still, I’m beginning to see the difference between knowing something and understanding why we take those assumptions for granted.  A bit juvenile and precocious, but it’s all I’ve got.

cultural immersion

A Spanish version of Happy Birthday is blasting outside of my window with the random Spanish additions at the end (new songlust?)  A tiring but fruitful Friday.  Last weekend I went to a bullfight.  Well, let the riots begin.  I was unsure about it but I suppose it’s some kind of cultural theatre.  Which basically sums up the experience in two words.  Lots of yellings of ‘ole’, dismemberment, lovely violence all around.  Well, that’s life.

I wish I could say more about it, but honestly I actually fell asleep at the 5th bull out of 6 because they were taking forever to off it and I just felt a mixture of pity/revulsion/boredom.  Some things I suppose I see only because I am a tourist- it’s like going to the US just to watch a NASCAR game.  Ok, no.  But still.

Last weekend we also went to Córdoba, where there is an insane Mezquita that got converted into a cathedral on some parts of the inside, making it effectively the craziest and only hybrid religious structure I have ever seen.

The Cathedral bits looked pretty much like all the other cathedral photos I’ve already posted.  Clearly, I am going to be a cathedral stalker in the future, regardless of my deep feelings on the matter.  Córdoba seemed very small from my visit, but it was partially because we were, once again, forced to go on a tour with our program.  I am not a huge fan of tours and they way they inevitably suck the soul out of you by forcing you to try not to fall asleep or wander away too obviously while someone who likely resents this job (or is too obsessed with it to be sane) blabs on about something I’d rather look at alone, in peace.  But now I’ve said my piece.  If a little brusquely.

This Tuesday we went to the contemporary museum of art in Sevilla.  It’s in a giant park where the expo of ’29 and ’92 were, which means there is plenty of empty space and weird sculptures.  I felt like I was in a strange video game- weird music drifting from various sculptures and all.  The inside was an old monastery, but we could go into all the little cloisters, which had been turned into places for installations for contemporary art.

I’ve begun to settle into my classes.  The problem is that while I wouldn’t mind taking 2 university classes I would prefer not to have NO class Th/Fr and 4 classes on M/W.  That’s just rough.  Right now I think I’m going to take 2 art history classes ( want to drop one of these but it’s on a Thursday/Tuesday schedule), Spanish film (maybe I will drop this), The Arabic World, and possibly one more Uni class if it is good enough.  We shall see.

Last night I went to the only original-voice movie theatre in the city to see Isabel Coixet’s Mapa de los sonidos de Tokio.  It was decent, although the cinematography was top-notch.  When we got back, we were talking to my Señora about the beautiful photography and she told us that her cousin was a cinematographer whose movie, Volver a empezar, won an Oscar in 1984!  He himself won a Goya, the Spanish equivalent.  Insanity- I only wish I had been able to meet him- he passed away  in the 90s.  Still, it’s nice to have some kind of cinematic connection.  In the cinema class I am currently in, we watched excerpts sometimes of English films…DUBBED in Spanish.  The. Pain.  El. Dolor.  It’s seriously unbearable, and I see no reason why a film class should have to do this, especially to fucking West Side Story.  I eagerly await the next massacre.

Today I went to a small mountain town called Ronda, which was glorious, tranquil, and beautiful.  Will update about that later.  For now, tomorrow, I must rise and shine early (yet again) to go on an overnight trip to Chiclana.  We will be stopping in Jerez and taking a bus tour (…….) through Cádiz.  Such is life!  Such is life.  Its been a busy week, but things are starting to come together, now that I’ve been here for a month and settled in.  Time to… start writing more…?  One can only hope.