room with a view (if only)

I thought I'd post a little bit just about things...

You remember that last one about the shorts? Well, I bought a pair... Unfortunately, this is the view from my bedroom window:

...which means that I have to entirely trust the weather report online. Which means that when it says that it will be sunny, clear, and 70 degrees, I believe it. Which means that I get REALLY weird looks when I wear my new shorts, and there turns out to be not a spot of blue sky. It's too bad I'm already at school, but on the other hand, I decided I'm just not going to care anymore when an entire table of girls in the university cafeteria turns around, clearly talking about my bad clothing choice. But I must ask: why so overtly judgemental? Can you all just wait until I'm no longer smiling awkwardly at you to make your jokes about my "American-ness"? That would be great.

On a random side note, I got my hair cut finally last week... THAT was terrifying, especially when I told the guy that I only wanted my bangs cut "un poquitiquitito" and then he proceeded to take the razor and cut a straight line from the top of my right eyebrow to my lower left jaw. And then decided it was no good (?) and cut and cut and cut. I now have extremely short bangs. And slightly asymmetrical. At least I didn't come out with a mullet, faux-hawk, or otherwise ridiculously Spanish haircut.

short-less

Today happens to be a very special day in my new gaditana life. It marks the first day that I have regretted not bringing any shorts with me here. Shorts, you ask? Why would you need shorts in southern Spain? An excellent question. In fact, I asked myself that for the first 3 1/2 months... Well, turns out Spain (particularly the south of Spain) can actually get rather hot. Currently, I am sitting in the shade, and am (believe it or not) HOT. Almost uncomfortably so. Of course, it doesn't really help that I am drinknig a steaming café solo largo, but what can I say... I need my coffee, and they just don't do it iced here.

Which actually reminds me... My latest hobby is searching for (now that my iPod is broken, not so much new music as...) new things to cook! Which, I can't! But let me assure you that when I return to the US where there are measuring cups a-plenty, I plan to cook like there's no tomorrow (Mom, Dad, Hans...others...brace yourselves! and plan on lots of eating.) One of the things I am especially excited for is making my own cold-brewed iced coffee, which I discovered thanks to my increased time spent with the New York Times food section (online, of course). And I must say, I don't know how it never occured to me before, considering I must have picked hundreds of mint stalks (I reeked of spearmint, peppermint, and chocolate mint for WEEKS - I guess it could be worse...) last summer with Raphaela so that Bridget could prove to all of us non-believers that cold-brewed iced tea is infinitely better than regular-brewed iced tea. Truth is, I'm still somewhat unconviced, but it was good and quite refreshing on those 100+ degree days). BUT, I am determined to try again with coffee. Apparently, it makes for sweeter coffee. Of course, after living in Spain for a semester, where they insist on adding sugar to their strawberry Dannon yogurt (and are convinced that bananas make you fat - yes, my madre alerted me to this "fact" yesterday), I'm not sure that I will ever be able to consume anything at all without at least 3 (enormous) packets of sugar.

On a side note, I have never seen so many olives go by me as just now: 4 one or two gallon buckets of green olives being carted through the plaza on a hand-truck. Ohh, Spain...

here, at the edge of the world

The mornings here are so beautiful. It's always so hard to actually get out of my bed, since there is absolutely no sunlight that enters my bedroom, but remembering the sunlight hitting the tops of the buildings is usually enough. This morning was even more breathtaking. As I walked through the narrow streets and looked down those that I passed, I could see a morning mist had settled overnight, but above, the sky was blue. And at the end of the streets, where the ocean is supposed to be, there was nothing...

...have I seen the edge of the world?

road kill

Yesterday I nearly stepped on a pigeon that was laying in the middle of the street. It was absolutely perfect, except for a a one inch circle of blood coming from it's chest, making it look as though it had been stabbed. I really wish I had my camera. And this morning on my daily internet search I found a dead cockroach (they die?) laying there on the cobblestones, little patitas up in the air, and looking so lonely and pathetic. Pigeons and cockroaches...


It's another beautiful day in Cádiz (though last night it poured) and the clouds are being carried swiftly across the sky. Yesterday I spent a really pleasant afternoon reading in the Parque Genovés, between UCA (Universidad de Cádiz) and the water. In fact, it was so nice that I think I will have to do it again today...

streets of wax

As I mentioned in the last post, last week was La Semana Santa. Unfortunately, I missed almost the entire thing, except for Easter Sunday, which wasn't really the same as the rest of the week. Actually, I have kind of mixed feelings about that... On the one hand, I'm really upset that I missed such a unique cultural experience (for an American...). On the other hand, I'm extremely relieved. I guess you could say that La Semana Santa is a lot like Carnaval - except sad. Maybe a little less highly excessive drinking and general belligerence. In the weeks between Carnaval and La Semana Santa posters appeared all over the city, no longer the cheery looking ones of Carnaval, but rather extremely depressing, dark close-ups of Jesus with lots of blood, or the skeletal form of the crucifix... They were everywhere (but I can't find an image of one...). Then, in the days before the "celebrations began," you would see little children walking down the streets with KKK hats in their hands. There were stores with little figurines with the same hats. Like the posters, they were everywhere. But during La Semana Santa, those hats multiply into the hundreds, and sing solemnly, and chant, and walk slowwwwly in lines down the street. Now, I know that in this case it has absolutely nothing to do with the KKK, but whenever I saw one, I would get chills! I honestly don't think I would have been able to leave my house, had I not gone to Italy for the week, without having nightmares for a month!

So fortunately (I guess?), I missed that. In fact, there didn't really seem to be much at all happening on Sunday as I wandered around the city. Until 6 in the evening. I had heard that morning (through a little bit of Spanish eavesdropping, of which I am actually pretty proud) something about "...que ir a la plaza de San Antonio a las seis..." but I had missed the original question, which would have told me what exactly was at the plaza at 6. So I figured I would just head in that direction around that time and see for myself. When I got there, there were probably a couple hundred people standing in the plaza, all talking, and all facing sort of the same direction, but nothing was actually happening. After waiting a little while, a marching band appeared coming towards the plaza (in which there is a large church), playing very loud music, with a thundering doom dooom doom doooom... Very intense and exciting. They stopped playing for a while, but I could see the doors of the church open, and the giant doorway fill completely, bottom to top, with little candles! And then a huuuge statue of the crucifix (cruz de guía, that seemed to be floating in the air. The band suddenly started playing again, and Jesus emerged on his cross, surrounded by little white candles, and sitting on a very large, bottomless box (for lack of a better word). This was being carried by maybe 20-30 men, which you couldn't see (on a side note, apparently they train for this for months beforehand because they have to carry this thing for hours and hours at a time). The whole thing moved very, verrrry slowly, and would stop from time to time (to catch it's breath?). Gradually, the procession made it to a side street off of the plaza, turned the corner and disappeared, along with many of the people gathered in the plaza. Some followed, some simply seemed to leave. I left, too, and went home to study...

The next morning on my way to the university, I stepped out of my building and walked down my little street to one of the bigger ones, only to discover that it was completely covered in candle wax. And I don't mean just in one little spot - the entire street was covered. All the way up the street, up, up, up all the way to the plaza de S. Antonio, which was also completely covered in wax.

That was Monday. Already that morning I could see street cleaners down some of the smaller streets, scrubbing and scrubbing and scrubbing away. They are still scrubbing today. Today is Thursday.

a small rant

Problems with Spain-
*My apologies if some of this comes across as extremely judgmental and mean...
1. There is no room in Spain where you can actually see the opposite wall. Due to smoke. I am certain that I will develop lung cancer just from being here 5 months... As I write this, I can feel my lungs turning black as I fill them with probably a ratio of 1:37, oxygen : cigarette smoke.
2. ENOUGH WITH THE MATCHING!! Or if you must match your shoes to your purse to your too-tight cardigan to your earrings, bangles, and belt, maybe try doing it a little more discretely. No more bright yellow or electric blue. No more!!!!
3. The cholo-ed out lips... black lip liner on bare lips? Really?
4. Cannot take anymore fried fish. I don't know if I will ever be able to eat fish-and-chips again. Ever. Also, after a week of Italian food, it's really just torture.
5. Diego, my initially adorable 5-year-old gaditano brother, who insists on calling me "tramposa" for sitting down to dinner when he's not home. Tramposa means cheater, but I think it sounds really a lot worse... Plus, really I'm not cheating!! How can I race him from the door to the kitchen table if he's not there? That is SO NOT CHEATING!
6. Diego (again) who begs me to bring him some Italian candy, and then throws half of it away.
7. Verdes viejos - very sleazy, but also very old Spanish men. Enough said.
8. Ok, enough complaining for now. (...to be continued...)

che mondo meraviglioso

Last week was Semana Santa, or Holy Week, during which the University of Cádiz was closed, thus providing the perfect opportunity for... a trip to Italy!
So. Saturday I got on a train to Sevilla,

to catch a plane to Pisa, where I stayed the night with 4 or 5 other students from the program. We stayed in a B&B called something like the Welcome Inn. It was really sweet with a garden and a cat (that was dubbed Tripod due to it's lack of one leg...). In the morning we wandered around the city until our train left at 3 for Cinque Terre. We did the tourist thing - the leaning tower pictures, ate gelato, you know...

We stayed in the last town of Cinque Terre, called Monterosso al Mare, the most touristy, least "authentic" of the five. I guess it's probably best that we stayed there, rather than one of the others, because there was a little bit more to do, but the truth is it was one of my least favorite towns.

The first day we decided to hike between the towns, but discovered that the second section of the hike (between Vernazza and Corniglia) was closed due to landslides. So we decided to hike only the first section, after much speculation as to what exactly Rick Steves meant when he described it as "strenuous." Turns out, it was strenuous...



...but well worth the sweat and the dirt. Exhausted after our arrival in Vernazza, we hunted down some focaccia (delicious!) and took a nap on the giant slabs of rock next to the water. Followed by some (also delicious) gelato (side note: best chocolate ever is Kinder Bueno, which can be created with gelato by combining hazelnut and chocolate).

The next day, since that trail was still closed, we took a train to Corniglia to hike from there on. Corniglia is a tiny, tiny town (population 300), which, according to Rick is ideal for "hermits, anarchists...and mountain goats." It's the only town that is not directly by the water. Instead, one has to hike up 377 steps (arranged in 33 flights). Once at the top, we seem to have gone the wrong direction and completely missed the town, but what we did get to see was really nice. From there we hiked to the next town, Manarola, which was one of my favorites. It was less touristy than Monterosso, but still not the least so. After a little lunch, we continued on to Riomaggiore, my very favorite.
While I would not say that it is meant for hermits, it feels the least touristy (I think I need to find a synonym here...)and somehow, despite the fact that it is both the "first" town, as well as the easiest to get to, it had the feeling of being little visited. It also had a pebbly and secluded beach that was really nice.

The next few days, since my hiking pass had expired (sadly, it was only good for 2 days), I wandered around Monterosso and spent a lot of time on the beach. On the side of the rocky cliff that separates the old part from the new part, there's a really odd looking cement building (if you can really call it a building, see below) that apparently was a Nazi bunker. Monterosso was actually destroyed by bombing in WWII. Up in the hills there was a Cappuccin monk's monastery and a cemetery. Apparently, somewhere in the cemetery it is claimed that the 30th of February actually occurred... This unfortunately took me a little while to figure out.Somehow never managed to get very far into the other part of Monterosso until the very last day (no idea why), but since there was very little to occupy my time, I decided to venture deep into the new part. It wasn't really too exciting, until I came to the very end of the town, after passing some playgrounds, more restaurants and souvenir shops... And then I looked up and there was a giant sculpture of a man coming out of the cliff. It looked as though he was holding the cliff away from the water, or something, and reminded me a lot of Atlas.



(And the above is what I saw on my way back...)

ohhh valencia

It's been a while since my last post, and there's a lot to catch up on. The last weekend of March we all on a program trip to Valencia. I liked the city, although for some reason it never felt like a real city. Well, a city, yes, definitely, but I couldn't really imagine living there - or anyone living there, for that matter. I still can't quite figure out why...


We actually stayed outside of the center, but in the Ciutat de les Arts i les Ciències ("City of Arts and Sciences). It's a really impressive area that makes you feel like you're in Sydney, Australia, even if you've never been there before. There's a performing arts center, an aquarium, an IMAX theater... We spent a lot of time in the aquarium ("L'Oceanogràfic"), which was really interesting, and also watched Deep Sea at the "L'Hemisfèric." Definitely a sea-themed weekend. Ooh, and there was a dolphin show, too!

Ciutat de les Arts i les Ciènces

Baby Beluga



I just barely missed Las Fallas, Valencia's famous celebration where they build giant sculptures and then burn them at the end of a week, but there was still evidence of it...

We spent a couple days in Valencia, and then started heading back towards Cádiz, stopping in the towns of Úbeda and Baeza, where we stayed one night. The truth is they were pretty unexciting, though my friend and I did get a tour from some Gallegos who were at the Academia for the National Guard (and therefore suuuper conservative).

Not much more to say about Valencia, Úbeda or Baeza, so moving right along...