March 8, 2010
I have officially moved over to my new site!!!! Check out www.besosfromespana.com
I will no longer be updating this site… only the new one! The new site is completely my own and far more customizable, so if you have any suggestions on how to make it better or more beautiful please let me know!!
March 1, 2010
Oh Besosfromespana, how I’ve missed you! Who knew the withdrawals I would go through in one short week?!? It feels great to be back in blog mode. And speaking of blog mode… I have some extremely exciting news!! I decided to buy my own domain name! So I’m transferring this blog off of wordpress so instead of being www.besosfromespana.wordpress.com it will now be www.besosfromespana.com !! Sooo exciting. I decided to do this so I can completely customize my layout and whatnot. Through wordpress I cannot edit the code (aka I can’t change the background color or the font size or a hundred other things that I was to snazzify). With the help of a computer-genius amigo, I already have the other site up and running! I would explain how, but I honestly have NO idea. So long story short, I have a bunch of tweaking and fixing and tuning to do to the other site before I officially direct you guys over there, but soon I will have my very own, independent website! (Muchismo gracias to Aaron!)
Anyway… I spent the last four glorious days in Madrid! I will attempt to start at the beginning….
*Wednesday*
I was miserably sick. I woke up at about 2 am Tuesday night and everything hurt. My head was going to explode, my whole body ached terribly and my nose was running a million gallons an hour. It was a rough go. At 4 am I was at a total loss and skype phone called my mom. I was amazed that her soothing mom-powers worked an entire ocean away. After some night-time cold medicine and a cup of hot tea I finally fell back asleep. The next day was more of the same. Wake up, blow nose, take medicine, go back to sleep, repeat. My senora once again proved that she is the best person in the whole world. I woke up about 3 pm and groped my way to the kitchen. My senora and her two daughters were hanging out in the living room with her grandson. I came in looking like a sick, hot mess and managed to mumble something about “me duele” and “no siento bien”. All three of them jumped into action. My senora bustled into the kitchen to make me hot soup. Laura started asking about my symptoms in extreeeeemely slow, concerned Spanish and Sarah started a verbal rundown of different medicines to complement my symptoms. After a deliciously warm bowl of homemade chicken noodle soup, a huge white pill and warm milk I fell back into bed with exponentially higher spirits. My senora assured me over and over again that with another long nap and some more warm milk I would be just fine to catch my 1 am bus to Madrid. Two hours into my nap I rolled over to find a plate with warm milk and muffins on it that my senora had left next to my bed for me. I think that’s what cured me! After a hot shower I was by no means healthy, but was at least well enough to throw some things into my pack and get on the bus. The autobus was packed. Ever seat was taken. It was the longest 6 hours of my life. I couldn’t get comfortable in my cramped seat and therefore spent the entire night moaning and groaning in a half-sleep stupor. Ew.
*Thursday*
By the time we got to Madrid a serious state of grouchy had set in over my travel companions and I. We heaved our luggage off the bus (I am SERIOUSLY re-thinking my packing techniques for the next trip!) and headed to the metro to find our hostel. It was absolutely packed. Who knew that the entire city of Madrid rides the metro at 6:30 am on a Thursday? In our exhausted comatose state we stumbled onto the train. We must have blatantly looked like tourists. Halfway through the metro ride Maureen looked down and saw a lady’s hand in her purse. Luckily all she stole got was Maureen’s umbrella. It was way too close for comfort. We all learned our lesson though and kept an eagle-sharp eye on our belongings for the rest of the trip. The weather was perfectly in-sync with our moods the entire trip, therefore it was sprinkling and gloomy as we treked across Madrid to our hostel. We weren’t allowed to check in until noon. Luckily we discovered a Dunkin Coffee nearby (the Spanish equivalent of Dunkin Donuts). That cafe con leche saved my life. There was a complete turn around in our mood and liveliness from that first sip to the last. I also discovered the most delicious donut on the face of the planet- frambuesa (translates as “raspberry”). It was a jelly-filled creation of happiness! Instead of glaze on the outside it had a soft sprinkling of powdered sugar. Naturally I had to get two. After our coffee rejuvenation, Rob decided it was time to “get the day started!” – a phrase that epitomizes Rob’s attitude towards traveling and thus cemented him as “Dad” for the weekend and probably for the rest of the semester. Lauren, Maureen and I are more relaxed (some may even say lazy) travelers. We did our best to keep up with Dad, but usually failed miserably. In this particular instance we succeeded, and made it to the Reina Sofia museum. This museum houses a bunch of Picasso’s paintings. It was absolutely unreal to see Picasso’s work in real life. Looking at “Woman with dead baby” I felt tears well up in my eyes. He doesn’t paint pictures, he paints pure, raw emotion. I was most anxious to see “Guernica”, a painting that commemorates the bombing of Guernica during the Spanish Civil War. We had talked a lot about it in a few of my classes. Guernica is a small city in Spain that Franco bombed during the war. It was the first time a civilian population had ever been bombed during a war. The painting was shocking. It was probably 15 feet long and 6 feet wide- all in shades of gray. At first glance it looks like pure chaos- faces and arms and eyes and explosions- but then I started to inspect each piece. A horse’s head, nose jutting into the air, teeth sticking out at all angles, mouth torn open into a painful scream, the tongue pointing toward the sky in sharp crescendo of horror. I could hear the ear-blistering squeal that was most surely erupting from this creature. I was awestruck at how Picasso was able to both abstractly and overtly capture the horror that must have been experienced during and after the bombing. It was like nothing I’d ever seen before.
February 22, 2010
It’s shocking to me how many people I’ve randomly met that are keeping blogs of their time in Sevilla. Every one I stumble upon gives me new ideas of things to do with mine (that I’ve obviously been seriously slacking on implementing…). On the right sidebar I’ve put some links to a few of them. Check them out!
There is something about Spain that makes me crave chocolate like you wouldn’t believe. I made a Burger King pit stop on the walk home tonight to get the BK version of a McFlurry. Made my day.
Today I played a game with my senora’s grandson, Javier. He’s 7 (I think). I had been sitting in my room doing some reading for my European relations class when I heard giggling and dice from the living room. I went to investigate and it was the best decision I’d made all day. Javier and Loli were playing a dice game- basically the Spanish version of Yatzee, except without pre-printed score cards and with different dice. Instead of the usual numbers 1-6 on the dice they had a red circle = the ace, K = el rey, Q = caballero, J = jotah, 8 red dots = rojo, and 8 black dots = negro. I wish I had a video of Javier giggling and shouting with joy in Spanish as he and Loli rolled the dice and tried to get the most of one thing. After their game ended, my senora went to go make dinner and Javier and I watched some Bob Esponja- or Spongebob en espanol. Me encanta Bob Esponja!! Spongebob, in English, drives me crazy. It’s loud and annoying and not very funny, but en espanol, it’s basically the most entertaining show on television! Javier knows all the words to the opening song and sings along every time. My senora even joins in most of the time! And to see Sponge Bob doing ridiculous things with funny Spanish voiced dubbed over is far more entertaining than it sounds.
After a few minutes of intense Bob Esponja viewing I asked Javier to teach me how to play his game. He was sooooo excited to play again and began, in his 7 year old Spanish voice, to explain how to play. The explanation basically consisted of “roll the dice three times!” My senora came in from the kitchen and in her always patient voice slowly explained to me the gist of the game. We had a blast! Javier would roll and then squeal with excitement when he got good dice. Every time a turn was over he would shout “Abuela! Tengo tres rojos!” or “Abuela! Que es quatro reyes?” Loli would bustle into the living room and count out the points for him and show him where to write it on the hand-drawn score card. I was pretty terrible at the game- which can all be attributed to bad dice, of course. I would get a terrible roll with absolutely nothing I needed and Javier would shake his head and say “Que pena…” Needless to say I lost by 25…. Javier was “el campion!”
On the subject of games, Lauren, Maureen, Katie and I attempted to go play some basketball yesterday. Yes, I know the thought of me playing basketball can be quite hilarious, but lucky for me we didn’t get the chance to play an actual game. There is one outdoor basketball court that we know of and when we got there about 50 middle-aged men were hanging out on the court. When I say hanging out what I really mean is taking up space in a location that was massively inconvenient and completely unnecessary. After waiting for about 20 minutes under the impression that there was no way they could just stand there for very long, I asked one of them what was going on. Apparently they were practicing for Semana Santa and would be leaving in 5 minutes. Thirty minutes later they were still standing and still not practicing. Luckily, there was an outdoor exercise park right next to the court. About ten different “machines” were scattered around a patch of sand about the size of a tennis court, maybe a little bigger. They were made of yellow, circular metal tubes.
Step 1
Step 2!
My favorite was one where you stood on a small platform, just big enough for both of my feet to fit. There were two “handles” which were really just metal poles right a bottom-of-the-lung height. I stood on the platform, held the handles and swung my legs side to side, like a pendulum. It was an ab machine! In the middle of a park! Que guay! There was another one that had a huge wheel- like you’d find on a ship, except made of yellow metal. I can’t for the life of me figure out what it’s supposed to do. I tried everything from spinning it with one hand to holding each of the little red handles in each hand and turning it to stretch my arms. I was befuddled. Needless to say we were gloriously entertained for awhile…. but outdoor exercise equipment is only fun for so long.
Finally we decided to storm the court and take charge of one of the hoops. As we started shooting hoops the plethora of Spanish guys became our audience. When one of us would make it, they applauded. If we missed, the booed or groaned. At first it was a bit unnerving, but soon we learned to ignore it. With only about as much room as from the free throw line to the hoop, our play was constrained to just shooting hoops. Fantastic! I was basically a balla’.
My sweet bball moves
I'm Protecting and Defending. Be intimidated.
No worries. I have a great future in the game of HORSE. Lauren suggested we come play every Saturday… She nominated me as the hoop-guarder. All I have to do is stand under the hoop, catch the ball and shoot it. I think I can do that! I even came up with a slogan! “Protect and Defend”– It originated because there was a tiny little boy hanging out with his dad in the ridiculously unnecessary pow-wow and we almost took him out with the ball about 10 times. I decided to “protect and defend” the little boy and posted up right in front of him to block the ball should it come flying at him again. The slogan was so catchy I decided to apply it to all my basketball endeavors, whether it makes sense or not.
Balla'
February 20, 2010
After further consideration… a some sweet b-ball moves… I’ve decided to amend my song of the day. This one is a bit more appropriate:
February 19, 2010
Today I feel in love. Not that short-term, puppy love, but a deep, lasting true sort of love. Today I ate Nutella for the first time. I am currently entangled in an epic battle with myself not to devour the remainder of my 200 g jar before I go to bed. Unfortunately for me, the Nutella is winning this war.
Other things that happened today:
1. I had my first quiz of the semester. This made me realize that I have no desire to study or put forth effort in classes. There are far too many other glorious once-in-a-lifetime opportunities waiting for me beyond my notebooks for me to spend time worrying about grades and exams. Sadly, my grades transfer so I’ll have to find a fun, new place to study where I don’t feel like I’m missing out on any of the Sevilla experience
2. It rained. Again. All day. I honestly don’t know how much more of this miserable weather I can take. Rumor has it that it’s supposed to be sunny either tomorrow or Saturday… I’m crossing my fingers!
3. Caramelo had some of the most deliciously exotic (comparatively) comida tonight! Me encanta! My favorite were the appetizers that were basically cheese wrapped in spring roll dough. Yum!
4. Despues de Caramelo Maureen and I went in search of a place where we could sit and chill for a bit. We ended up at the place where I take salsa lessons! There were a good number of unbelievable salsa dancers there! I absolutely loved just watching them do their thang. I decided that salsa is about a hundred times more sensual than any booty grinding you could ever do. One of the hombres I attempted to bailar with said, at one point in the dance, ‘suave. mas suave’ – meaning more sensual, more smooth… I definitely failed on both accounts cuz eventually he just started laughing and moved on to a different dance move. In conclusion, I love salsa dancing and want, no neeeeeed, to learn how to dance like those people. Que guay!
February 17, 2010
I feel a rant coming on… No, rant is the wrong word. It’s more like a tribute, an ode to paraguas.
This morning was glorious. My ipod “harp”ed me awake just before 9 am and I awoke to the sound of rain falling on the tin roof outside my window, a far too familiar sound these days. I drug myself out of bed and fell into the first hot shower I’ve taken in the morning since moving to my new casa. I have been fearfully avoiding showering in the morning since my first week here when the shower turned icy cold half way through. What I did not realize until this morning is that the reason said shower turned cold was because my senora had showered about 30 minutes before me and the hot water did not have time to reset. That was back when I went to school at 9 am. Now I don’t go until 10- which means I’ll have hot water in the mornings!!! You can’t even imagine how excited I am. My morning routine is back! I can have a wake-up shower before starting my day! Halleluiah!
Anyhoo… My senora has a bucket of sorts- it’s like an oversized tin can, decorative of course- that holds all of her paraguas. And when I say all I mean her plethora of umbrellas. She has probably 20 different ones, everything from a compact plaid one to blue cartoon kids one to a sleek, lacy one. Basically, I can match my umbrella with my mood and outfit. Who knew the joy that could come from an umbrella! This morning I decided on a large gray one. Now these paraguas are not your average American rain-protectors where you push a button on a compact plastic handle and a makeshift, wirey structure sprouts out of the end. These are true pieces of fashion. The center pole is the length of my leg with a sleek gray leather handle- straight out of Mary Poppins. It even has the 3 inch black tip at the end! In many ways it’s a glorified cane shrouded in water-proof cloth. The spokes of my paragua are not feeble wires; this thing is clad with a substantial, sturdy metal support system.
Strolling to the metro stop, paragua in hand, it takes every ounce of self control I have not to break into song and tap-dance my way down the puddle-ridden sidewalk. This umbrella was most certainly a prop in Gene Kelly’s “Singing in the rain” dance number and it becomes increasingly difficult not to sing a few lines. As the sun breaks through the gloomy clouds I fold up my silvery-gray personal-sized circus tent and take a deep breath, for now it has become the perfect toy sword! The possibilities are endless! I feel completely safe while carrying this umbrella because it could easily double as a beating stick/club in the event of a surprise attack. I’m constantly entertained swinging it around in neat circles by the hook of the handle. It’s a walking stick, adding an extra tap to the clickity clack of my boots on the pavement. It’s a poking device to investigate the curiously shaped bottle nuzzled under a bush. It’s a fashion accessory that allows me to blend in with my fellow stylish-paragua-bearing Europeans (which is completely offset by my fire-hydrant red rain jacket- which I am also madly in love with). About 50 feet from the metro stop the dark clouds conquer the sky once more and a steady stream of lluvia begins to fall. All around me dormant rain canes spring to life and the street is again crowded with massive personal shelters, bobbing and bumping their way across the soaked city.
February 14, 2010
This is the designer I was going to work with, but decided to go to Cadiz instead…. More about that later.
http://www.fernandoclaro.com/
February 12, 2010
Dear Senora,
Thank you for being the best person ever and making me feel better when I’m cold, wet and grouchy. Your soup is the best thing in the whole world when it’s cold outside. You’re fantastic.
Loooooooove,
Amy
Today was a miserable day. The temperature barely reached 40, the wind was blowing like a hurricane and ice-cold rain fell all day long. I ventured out of mi casa around 5 to pick up my Carnaval wristband from el centro. After about a block my fingers were red and stiff and my toes were stubby ice cubes. By the time Lauren, Maureen and I got to Discover Sevilla I was pretty sure I was suffering from hypothermia. After retrieving the wristbands we bee-lined for the closest coffee shop to lay out some travel plans for the rest of the semester. My first normal-sized coffee since I’ve been to Europe, a chocolate and vanilla muffin and farrr too many euros later we decided we’re going to Madrid and Barcelona at the end of February, London-Dublin-Amsterdam over Feria in April, Vienna-Prague during semana santa and Portugal some random weekend in April (I think). Should be gloooorious! Now I get to devote all my free time to Cheapvuelos.com…
As I am stomping through the puddles on my saturated street I realized that while I may be painfully cold and grouchy, I’m not unhappy in the slightest. Even in its frigid wetness Sevilla is still the only place in the world that I would want to be right now. I couldn’t help but grin as people rushed around with their over-sized industrial-strength, yet still stylish, umbrellas. There are just so many things to love about this place 
February 10, 2010
Today was un dia muy largo and thus muy fantastico! Most exciting thing on the agenda: flights to Paris got even cheaper!!! I’m about to book a flight leaving the night of Thursday May 6th and getting back into Sevilla the morning of Monday the 10th for 64 euros!! There is no way it can get better than that! Four glorious days to eat my weight in crepes. Yes please!
There is a travel agency in Sevilla called Discover Sevilla that has been working super closely with my program by showing us around to some bars and clubs in town during the first few weeks we were here. One of the guys that works for the agency has a friend who works for a fashion designer. When said fashion designer needed a few girls to model his new line, Manuel suggested me! I went and met with one of the girls who works in the boutique last week. She took my height and a few other measurements because I have nooooo idea what my height is on the metric system- you should have seen her face when I wrote down 5’9″ for my height! (turns out I’m 1 meter 80 centimeters tall) After a few directions in extremely rapid Spanish I awkwardly strolled out of the sleek boutique juggling my stuffed, heavy purse and bulky jacket to await a phone call later in the week with further instructions. Said phone call came at 9 am Friday morning- exactly 3 hours after I had gone to bed Thursday night (thank you Spanish discos for staying open until sunrise). Obviously I missed that call… and the second one at 11 am… at noon she called for a third time. Luckily the third time’s the charm and I awoke from my slumber to mumble a sloppy “uhh digame” into my small black and orange mobile. I was greeted with that same peppy, extremely rapid Spanish. For the life of me I have no idea how I managed to understand “Come to the store Tuesday at 5:30″ but when I did finally wake up for the day that is the only thing I remembered from the entire exchange…
Fast forward to today at 5:30. Nervous, anxious and early I tried my best to look fashionable as I strolled into la tienda at exactly 5:30 this afternoon (you should know that Spaniards are always 5-15 minutes late and that 5:30 is practically lunch time here). The lady I had met with and been talking with was not there. Instead I was greeted by another young, gorgeous Spaniard who turned out to be the designer’s daughter and personal assistant. She was exceedingly nice and spoke slowly after I explained my horridity at Espanol. She led me past the dressing rooms to a back room that had a full hanging bar of the most uniquely stunning garments I’ve ever seen in real life. I felt like I had just walked behind the scenes of a Milan fashion show. After an adorable greeting with the fashion designer (who could not have possibly looked more Spanish fashion designer in his dark brown, faintly plaid trousers, button-down shirt and cardigan) the assistant lady (I don’t think I ever caught her name) helped me into the first dress. It was outrageously fantastic. The bodice part was made of silvery-gray lace- but not the kind of thin floppy lace that most clothes have on them. It was a thick, almost stiff crocheted kind of lace. Beneath the lace, beginning at about the height of a tank top was slightly more shimmery silver fabric. The skirt part of the dress began at the top of my hip bones and was like a bowl puffing out from my body. There were about 4 wires inside the skirt to help maintain the bowl-ish silhouette. The fabric was again silvery white but had somewhat embroidered lighter, whiter thread creating a curly pattern through the material. If I had stood on my head I would have looked just like a frost-covered silver tulip. The sleeves of the dress just covered my shoulders and were made of the same silvery fabric as the skirt. It was an extremely short dress, not even reaching half the distance to my knees. It was easily the most fashionably and most expensive item of clothing I’ve ever worn. The dress (and I in it) belonged on a runway. Apparently the designer and assistant thought so too. After strapping a pair of unremarkable heels on me, they took me into a room where a mirror completely covered one wall and a deep red, shag-covered, large, round sofa thing took up nearly half the floor space. I climbed atop the cushion and stared at my reflection. I’ve never felt like a model before in any aspect of the word. In fact, the word itself sounds cliche and tastes bad coming out of my mouth. Standing in front of that mirror in the chiq, stunning little dress I felt pretty darn pretty.
The assistant lady snapped a picture on her blackberry and took me back into the back room to try one more outfit. This one took the unique factor through the roof. First she handed me a pair of silver, stretchy spandex shorts (well basically spandex). I almost ripped them right down the front trying to put them on without taking off the 5 inch heels and very nearly toppled to the ground twice. With the shiny spandex in place she handed me a peach colored dress that opened completely in the front. It was held closed by one small clasp right below my collarbone- thus the shiny spandex. The dress was a shimmery, thick pinkish material that was unbelievably tailored. With only that one clasp to hold the dress against my body, it fell perfectly over me, hugging in all the right places. Instead of looking like a barber’s smock it looked like a coveted catwalk item. This dress also had baby sleeves that hugged my shoulders. They were made of bright shiny silver fabric that was folded into triangles. About 50 triangles made the sleeves look like shimmering flowers full of silver pedals. They took another blackberry photo and told me they’d call on Thursday to set up the details for the fashion shoot on Saturday.
The first lady I talked to (the one who took my height) said the shoot would be Saturday morning. Turns out it is Saturday night around 9 pm- exactly the same time my bus to Cadiz for Carnival leaves. Talk about bad timing! There are going to be 3 other girls at the shoot and we were going to be “going to a disco” in these outrageously awesome dresses. I forgot the name of the discoteca, but the photo will be pasted on the wall of the dance club- wallpaper style. So much for free admission to a super Spanish disco for the rest of the semester! When I told assistant lady I wouldn’t be able to make the shoot, she was extremely understanding and said they would be having a “catwalk” in March and that she would most definitely call me. Sounds like fun!
February 8, 2010
I have a conundrum. And a mi cabeza le duele. I’ve been staring at airline websites all afternoon trying to find a cheap flight to Paris and found the perfect deal: about 80 euros round trip to fly from Sevilla to Paris for the weekend before my birthday. I can’t think of a more perfect time to spend beneath the Eiffel Tower. It will be the middle of spring, everything will be in bloom and the weather should be ideal. I could begin my birthday celebrations with crepes, cheese and chocolate. And some of the best vino in the world, of course! The only issue is Sarah won’t be there… her program ends May 1st so she will be viaje-ing around otro lugares en Europe by then. Sadness.
….3 hours later….
I’m going to Paris!!!!!!!!! Hooray for crepes and chocolate and vino and cheese and flowers and French people and berets and flowers and strolling in front of the Eiffel Tower! Estoy muy emocionada!!
Last night I watched the Superbowl at O’Neils, an Irish pub about a 6 minute bike ride from mi casa. I sat on the stairs (because all the seats were taken), ate greasy french fries with my fingers, spoke in English and watched American football on a projector screen. It was a delightful and welcomed taste of home. Before I left my cousin, who spent a semester in Spain back in his day, said for the first few weeks it will feel like a marvelous vacation, then it will sink in that you’re there for five whole months and the homesickness will take over for about a week. My professor the other day gave us a similar rundown. “At first it is all an adventure and all you need is to explore Sevilla. Then you’ll start to get homesick. This is when you have to eat the chocolate,” he said. “Please get some chocolate, I don’t like having depressed students.” Then he gave us directions to what he claims is the best chocolateria in Sevilla. You can imagine my anxiousness to go there! As I lounge here in the living room, half huddled under the dining table because the heater is under there reading about the history of American foreign policy from a CD full of US-European relations readings I could really use some of that chocolate. Any time I have a conundrum my mom always gives the best advice. She can outline a pro and cons list like it’s nobody business! She’s always the first person I turn to when faced with an important decision… I realized for the first time today that I was an ocean away from her calming smile and comforting shoulder rub.
Loli just came and sat at the table with me to eat a late cena. She turned on the tv to an outrageous performance at Carnival. There is a stage full of people dressed the the brightest of colors with grossly oversized hats playing mini guitars and singing a lively number! Que divertido! Loli rocks.
