It's been a while. 5 months, almost to the day. So much has happened in the last 5 months. So many changes. So many ups, so many downs. To name a few...
-school was HARD. The semester change was HARD. We all got burnt out around week 11 (simply because week 11 isn't supposed to exist for the students of Ohio University). I took TWO production classes; one was a joke, one was legit. I learned an immense amount.
-leading YoungLife was HARD, but as always, very rewarding. We took 3 girls and 7 boys to Fall Weekend for the first time in Nelsonville-York YL history. Our team learned how to function with only 4 people instead of 6. We attended countless amounts of football games. Met some real precious kids. My only girl co-leader, Erin, is taking her last semester of college to really buckle down and find herself a job, and thus, stop leading, so it'll just be me, Tim, and Cooper on Team N-Y for the next solid year. It should be a really fun struggle. I'm excited!
-paying bills and rent was a really good learning experience. And hard. So was living with 3 of my best friends. But I wouldn't trade the experience for anything. I wouldn't trade my roommates for anyone else. We mesh extremely well, although we're still learning how to love one another to the fullest. One day at a time.
-having a car was AWESOME. Mom and Dad are saints. We couldn't find one quick enough from one of the dealerships before I went back to school, so they let me take one of the cars they own back to school. Which means no one except me can drive it. You break it, you buy it, as they say.
-trying to figure out life and my future was HARD. And scary. I don't plan my life out anymore, though. I've learned that plans are going to change on me anyway, whether I like it or not, so I just take a step back and let Him handle it. So far, He's done a good job. I have an interview with a post-production company in a week for an internship this summer. I'm sitting down with the president of the company and his creative director. I have no idea what I'm wearing.
-being home on break has been a joy. But also hard. I sometimes miss the freedoms I have at school (like closing my bedroom door and pretending I'm not in there when someone knocks). Mom always knows where I am. But I wouldn't trade my family in for a new one. Not ever.
Thus, it's been a hard (did you get that?), but enjoyable 5 months. Here's to the next 5! And a couple more blog posts in between. And Dory's voice a little louder in my head.
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Saturday, August 4, 2012
What the Homeless Guy Taught Me
It's been just over two weeks since I've been back in the states, and I have to say, I'm enjoying being back in America. Signs are in English, conversations I overhear around me are in English, TV/Radio/YouTube Ads are in English...it's been kind of nice to not have to think about everything I want to say or do before I say or do it. Comfortable. My last few days in Spain were the best few days of the whole trip. I barely had any homework, I went out with my new friends from the group and laughed a lot, I relaxed with Piedad...things were super enjoyable. Which only made me want to stay longer, something I didn't think I'd be saying at any point during my trip.
There was this homeless guy who sat right outside our apartment building. Every single day he would set up his cardboard box to sit on, lay a bowl down on the ground, and hold his sign, which read something along the lines of: "I have two sons and no job. Please help me pay for their food. They are very hungry." This guy looked like a legit homeless guy, and clearly he didn't have a job because he sat outside our building every day, but I was suspicious anyway. Too often I've given people money on the streets and they go running down the street with it and end up buying a pack of cigarettes or something (yes, this has happened to me before). But one day, I was sitting on the porch (of the 2nd floor, remember) having a quiet time, and noticed that below me some nice person was giving the homeless guy a couple of euros. I peered over the railing to see what he was going to do with the money as the nice person went on their way. He immediately got up, left his seat and his blankets and even his bowl of money, went around the corner, and came back a minute later carrying a 3 gallon jug of water and a few loaves of bread. He was seriously thirsty and seriously hungry. He stuffed the bread into his bag and would occasionally take a sip of water until he finally got up and left. Earlier than usual. My guess was he couldn't wait any longer to get home to his sons to show them what he had pulled from the day.
My last day, I was cleaning and packing up my room and found an extra 20 euros under some clothes. Since I had no intention of spending the rest of the money I had in Spain, I went downstairs and walked up to the homeless guy and put the 20 into his hand. He kept thanking me out of his shock and calling me beautiful and telling me the Lord was going to bless me and all I could do was stand there while he kissed my hand and not move or say a word. I couldn't think of anything to say to this man who had so much faithfulness that the Lord was going to provide for him that he sat on his box day after day and just trusted that he'd rake up enough money from nice people to feed his two boys. When he finally let me go, all I wanted to do was go find the rest of the old homeless men and women in Spain and give them 20 euros too. I never thought I'd be getting an unintentional Jesus lesson from a homeless dude while I was in Spain. Ha, but it happened.
Overall my experience was truly great, even if it did take me longer than most to adjust to my surroundings. Piedad and I talked so much about visiting each other down the road; I'm super excited because I think that'll probably happen some day. But for now, I'm seriously enjoying America.
There was this homeless guy who sat right outside our apartment building. Every single day he would set up his cardboard box to sit on, lay a bowl down on the ground, and hold his sign, which read something along the lines of: "I have two sons and no job. Please help me pay for their food. They are very hungry." This guy looked like a legit homeless guy, and clearly he didn't have a job because he sat outside our building every day, but I was suspicious anyway. Too often I've given people money on the streets and they go running down the street with it and end up buying a pack of cigarettes or something (yes, this has happened to me before). But one day, I was sitting on the porch (of the 2nd floor, remember) having a quiet time, and noticed that below me some nice person was giving the homeless guy a couple of euros. I peered over the railing to see what he was going to do with the money as the nice person went on their way. He immediately got up, left his seat and his blankets and even his bowl of money, went around the corner, and came back a minute later carrying a 3 gallon jug of water and a few loaves of bread. He was seriously thirsty and seriously hungry. He stuffed the bread into his bag and would occasionally take a sip of water until he finally got up and left. Earlier than usual. My guess was he couldn't wait any longer to get home to his sons to show them what he had pulled from the day.
My last day, I was cleaning and packing up my room and found an extra 20 euros under some clothes. Since I had no intention of spending the rest of the money I had in Spain, I went downstairs and walked up to the homeless guy and put the 20 into his hand. He kept thanking me out of his shock and calling me beautiful and telling me the Lord was going to bless me and all I could do was stand there while he kissed my hand and not move or say a word. I couldn't think of anything to say to this man who had so much faithfulness that the Lord was going to provide for him that he sat on his box day after day and just trusted that he'd rake up enough money from nice people to feed his two boys. When he finally let me go, all I wanted to do was go find the rest of the old homeless men and women in Spain and give them 20 euros too. I never thought I'd be getting an unintentional Jesus lesson from a homeless dude while I was in Spain. Ha, but it happened.
Overall my experience was truly great, even if it did take me longer than most to adjust to my surroundings. Piedad and I talked so much about visiting each other down the road; I'm super excited because I think that'll probably happen some day. But for now, I'm seriously enjoying America.
Wednesday, July 11, 2012
My 55-Year-Old Best Friends
I only have 8 days left here. How the time has gone! Well, kind of. While 4 weeks did seem to go by pretty quickly, there were days when I thought to myself, "Is it still only Tuesday?" My classmate and new friend Rob and I figured out it was because of the siesta. When you wake up from a nap, it naturally feels like you're waking up to a new day! Not the case, clearly.
Not too much has happened over the last week; I went to class (didn't get hit on my any more strangers, PHEW), took some notes, took an exam (bombed it, thanks a lot freaking history) prayed and journaled a lot, and went shopping for souvenirs!
On Sunday, Piedad and I went to Madrid with her friend Elena. We met up with a bunch of the friends I met last weekend in Madridejos. They were all super excited to see me, just as I was about seeing them. We hit up two art museums during the day (no picture evidence, sadly), one of the was the Prado! The line to get in was about 45 minutes, and for good reason. Besides it having over 80 galleries, this place is full of artful goodness. I didn't fully appreciate it until I saw The Naked Maja and Clothed Maja, paintings I've studied at OU, and after Piedad told me they were the ORIGINALS. Everything became much cooler after that. I'm in freaking Spain, THIS is where they have ORIGINALS to famous paintings and sculptures. Unbelievable. I saw a ton of other famous paintings I recognized, too. They were all pretty guay*.
We walked through La Puerta del Sol, basically the heart of not only Madrid, but Spain itself. I didn't realize it at first, but the Puerta del Sol was where I stayed in a hostel my very first night in Spain! I started to recognize more buildings and shops as we kept walking. Since it's Rebajas month (EVERYTHING is on sale, usually 50-80% off), there were tons and tons of people walking around. Felix made me put my backpack in front of me like a good little tourist should look. Thanks, Grampa Felix. We went to a small restaurant for bocadillos, which are just little tiny subs that Spaniards eat as a snack, and then immediately after went to this great Indian/Pakistani restaurant Felix raved about. Haha so the bocadillos were really appetizers in disguise. Figures. The Indian food was seriously great; I wasn't expecting it. During the meal, Felix handed Piedad this plastic bag he had been carrying around all day, and she gave it to me. "Not another present," I said, remembering my free gifts from Gregorio and Justa last weekend. "Of course!" they ALL exclaimed (wouldn't it have been embarrassing if it was just a plastic bag?). "From Ramón and I," said Felix (Ramón unfortunately wasn't able to make it into Madrid on Sunday). The bracelet they got me is from Tous, the Spanish equivalent to freaking Tiffany in the US. No cheap present! I tried to tell them they all spoiled me, but I'm pretty sure it came out as something about me being a rotten person, so I used someones smartphone to look up how to say things along the lines of "I'm flattered."
As the day came to a close, I hugged and kissed (twice each, of course) everyone goodbye and told them to come visit the states. Felix and I exchanged numbers so that when he comes to stay at his house in New York City he can call me and I'll drive 9 hours from Athens to see him. Just kidding, but let's be serious, I'm not kidding. I hugged Cristina, who started crying, and that's when I really felt the rock drop in the pit of my stomach at the thought of leaving Spain for good. It was a hard adjustment being here, but I've grown into the culture and the food and the SIESTAS and everything else. It's gonna be a serious bummer having to leave.
Today, when Piedad came home from work, she held out two boxes. "From Segrario," she said, "Pick one." Another present? I'm pretty sure every one of Piedad's friends are just trying to out-due each other now. I picked the box in her right hand and opened it up to find yet another bracelet with the word "forever" inscribed on it (Piedad's got "Friends" on hers, and in English, precious) and a little heart charm that can go on a bracelet or necklace. Seriously. All these friends need to come back to the US and live with me; I don't care if most of them are 3 times my age. I haven't been this coddled over since....I guess since I left for Spain, haha. I'm pretty spoiled at home, too. Not with presents, but with a whole bunch of love, which is a present in itself.
*guay = a phrase used here (¡Qué guay!) that means something along the lines of "How cool!" It's been waaayyy overused between me and mis compañeros (EVERYTHING is guay to us), but it's pretty funny. Naturally I thought it deserved a spot in this blog.
Not too much has happened over the last week; I went to class (didn't get hit on my any more strangers, PHEW), took some notes, took an exam (bombed it, thanks a lot freaking history) prayed and journaled a lot, and went shopping for souvenirs!
On Sunday, Piedad and I went to Madrid with her friend Elena. We met up with a bunch of the friends I met last weekend in Madridejos. They were all super excited to see me, just as I was about seeing them. We hit up two art museums during the day (no picture evidence, sadly), one of the was the Prado! The line to get in was about 45 minutes, and for good reason. Besides it having over 80 galleries, this place is full of artful goodness. I didn't fully appreciate it until I saw The Naked Maja and Clothed Maja, paintings I've studied at OU, and after Piedad told me they were the ORIGINALS. Everything became much cooler after that. I'm in freaking Spain, THIS is where they have ORIGINALS to famous paintings and sculptures. Unbelievable. I saw a ton of other famous paintings I recognized, too. They were all pretty guay*.
We walked through La Puerta del Sol, basically the heart of not only Madrid, but Spain itself. I didn't realize it at first, but the Puerta del Sol was where I stayed in a hostel my very first night in Spain! I started to recognize more buildings and shops as we kept walking. Since it's Rebajas month (EVERYTHING is on sale, usually 50-80% off), there were tons and tons of people walking around. Felix made me put my backpack in front of me like a good little tourist should look. Thanks, Grampa Felix. We went to a small restaurant for bocadillos, which are just little tiny subs that Spaniards eat as a snack, and then immediately after went to this great Indian/Pakistani restaurant Felix raved about. Haha so the bocadillos were really appetizers in disguise. Figures. The Indian food was seriously great; I wasn't expecting it. During the meal, Felix handed Piedad this plastic bag he had been carrying around all day, and she gave it to me. "Not another present," I said, remembering my free gifts from Gregorio and Justa last weekend. "Of course!" they ALL exclaimed (wouldn't it have been embarrassing if it was just a plastic bag?). "From Ramón and I," said Felix (Ramón unfortunately wasn't able to make it into Madrid on Sunday). The bracelet they got me is from Tous, the Spanish equivalent to freaking Tiffany in the US. No cheap present! I tried to tell them they all spoiled me, but I'm pretty sure it came out as something about me being a rotten person, so I used someones smartphone to look up how to say things along the lines of "I'm flattered."
As the day came to a close, I hugged and kissed (twice each, of course) everyone goodbye and told them to come visit the states. Felix and I exchanged numbers so that when he comes to stay at his house in New York City he can call me and I'll drive 9 hours from Athens to see him. Just kidding, but let's be serious, I'm not kidding. I hugged Cristina, who started crying, and that's when I really felt the rock drop in the pit of my stomach at the thought of leaving Spain for good. It was a hard adjustment being here, but I've grown into the culture and the food and the SIESTAS and everything else. It's gonna be a serious bummer having to leave.
Today, when Piedad came home from work, she held out two boxes. "From Segrario," she said, "Pick one." Another present? I'm pretty sure every one of Piedad's friends are just trying to out-due each other now. I picked the box in her right hand and opened it up to find yet another bracelet with the word "forever" inscribed on it (Piedad's got "Friends" on hers, and in English, precious) and a little heart charm that can go on a bracelet or necklace. Seriously. All these friends need to come back to the US and live with me; I don't care if most of them are 3 times my age. I haven't been this coddled over since....I guess since I left for Spain, haha. I'm pretty spoiled at home, too. Not with presents, but with a whole bunch of love, which is a present in itself.
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| The group! |
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| Puerta del Sol |
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| Indian restaurant. |
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| We met Ian Gibson outside the Indian restaurant, he's famous in Spain! Look him up! |
*guay = a phrase used here (¡Qué guay!) that means something along the lines of "How cool!" It's been waaayyy overused between me and mis compañeros (EVERYTHING is guay to us), but it's pretty funny. Naturally I thought it deserved a spot in this blog.
Wednesday, July 4, 2012
Chucktesta and Scumbags
Am I really that lame because the 4th of July is my favorite holiday? It must be an Orchard Park thing, because I'm pretty sure most of my high school friends and parents and teachers would say the same thing. We just know how to do it, I guess. It's a bummer not being able to spend it in the states with my friends and family. I'm missing some serious fun. Float decorating (yes, still), riding in the cab of dad's truck into town with music blaring out of the speakers we've hooked up to the outside of the windows (we think we're so cool), hot dogs, parade, hot dogs, seeing people you haven't seen in ages, hot dogs, fireworks, hot dogs. What the heck is there not to love about that?
Anyway, back to reality. Mario, 22, and Francisco, 18, Piedad's sons, came over for dinner last night. I'll admit I get a little uncomfortable when they come over; they intimidate the heck out of me with how fast they talk. I feel like such a dumb Americana when I have to ask them to repeat themselves. Exhibit A: at one point during dinner, Mario asked me a question. I really only heard the words "study" and "classes," so I assumed he was asking me about how I'm doing with school here. I went into this whole big thing about really sucking at history in English, let alone Spanish, and that I have this big test tomorrow, blah blah blah, and he sat there listening politely. When I was finished, he asked the exact same question he had asked before because, well, I didn't answer "Do you study the spanish language in the United States?" Oh man. I was so embarrassed that I told myself I would not open my mouth one more time during dinner and I would go straight back to studying in my little closet room when I was done. But then, Mario and Francisco began gabbing away at each other again and I heard Mario mumble under his breath "Chucktesta." The pact I had made with myself about not talking disappeared instantly and I perked up. "Did you just say 'Chucktesta?'" I asked. "Yes," said Mario. "Do you know what that is?" Do I know what that is? This is Chucktesta we're talking about here. This is the video we show constantly to our YoungLife kids. It's so ridiculous that you never think it could be for real, but it is. "Yes I know!" I said. Piedad just looked really confused. "What is Chucktesta?" she asked. We got up from the table and I got my laptop and we sat Piedad down to watch one of the greatest things on YouTube. There's not a spanish version, just the original with spanish subtitles, but MARIO KNEW EVERY SINGLE WORD. He quoted the whole thing! I was trying so hard to make it seem like I was laughing at the video and not at him just bossin' it with the English language. Afterwards (and might I add that while we were all dying on the couch from laughter, Piedad was looking at us like the youth doesn't know what real humor is anymore), I showed them Rhett and Link's Dope Zebra video, because Chucktesta pops up at the end. They thought it was hilarious. They showed me the Chucktesta songify remix. Another classic.
It was so cool being able to relate and bond with the boys through stupid things on the internet. And I mean really, how cool is that? That with about 6,000 miles between us, we can laugh over the same stuff, no language barrier interfering. It's pretty great. Since I know you're dying to know what these hilarious videos are (if you have yet to see them) I've graciously supplied you with the YouTube links so you can go laugh your socks off like we did last night.
Chucktesta
Chucktesta Songify
Dope Zebra
This morning, on my way to school, I decided to take a different route that ended up cutting down my casco commute by 7 minutes! I would be more excited about this if I wasn't hit on three times on the way there. I've gone this entire trip without any of that, and this morning, boom boom boom. Record broken. The first old guy just did a little creepy click of his tongue and said something that I didn't even understand, so I just rolled my eyes and kept walking. The second guy was much more forward. "¡Qué bonita!" he shouted at me from the other side of the street (which, I should mention, was probably about 6 feet away from me; the streets really aren't all that wide in the casco). I just kept my head forward and kept walking, but he turned around and started following me! I'll admit, my heart started beating harder against my chest, but I wasn't too worried; it was almost 9am, there were few people in the streets but still enough to be comfortable, and, hey, I was a freaking girl scout, bitch. I know not only the correct definition of self defense, but how show a brother up as well. This guy kept following me, not right behind me; he left a few feet of space in between us (maybe he sensed the girl scout vibe) and kept talking to me, only I could only really pick up the words that were derogatory. I finally turned around and told him to leave me alone (this was a phrase we were taught in orientation before we left, thanks, Señor Sisson), and that seemed to do the trick. He probably didn't think I even spoke any spanish at all. He said a few last remarks before finally heading back the way he had come. The third ratty guy didn't get to say much, because I was so pissed for having to deal with scumbags #1 and #2 that when he went to say what was on his mind, I just cut him off my shouting "NO!" in his face and power walking away. I felt like such a bad ass. So now it's come to if I'd rather have a quiet walk to school in the morning or if I'd like to get there quicker. Tough one.
I hope everyone has a great 4th of July! Eat a hot dog for me.
Anyway, back to reality. Mario, 22, and Francisco, 18, Piedad's sons, came over for dinner last night. I'll admit I get a little uncomfortable when they come over; they intimidate the heck out of me with how fast they talk. I feel like such a dumb Americana when I have to ask them to repeat themselves. Exhibit A: at one point during dinner, Mario asked me a question. I really only heard the words "study" and "classes," so I assumed he was asking me about how I'm doing with school here. I went into this whole big thing about really sucking at history in English, let alone Spanish, and that I have this big test tomorrow, blah blah blah, and he sat there listening politely. When I was finished, he asked the exact same question he had asked before because, well, I didn't answer "Do you study the spanish language in the United States?" Oh man. I was so embarrassed that I told myself I would not open my mouth one more time during dinner and I would go straight back to studying in my little closet room when I was done. But then, Mario and Francisco began gabbing away at each other again and I heard Mario mumble under his breath "Chucktesta." The pact I had made with myself about not talking disappeared instantly and I perked up. "Did you just say 'Chucktesta?'" I asked. "Yes," said Mario. "Do you know what that is?" Do I know what that is? This is Chucktesta we're talking about here. This is the video we show constantly to our YoungLife kids. It's so ridiculous that you never think it could be for real, but it is. "Yes I know!" I said. Piedad just looked really confused. "What is Chucktesta?" she asked. We got up from the table and I got my laptop and we sat Piedad down to watch one of the greatest things on YouTube. There's not a spanish version, just the original with spanish subtitles, but MARIO KNEW EVERY SINGLE WORD. He quoted the whole thing! I was trying so hard to make it seem like I was laughing at the video and not at him just bossin' it with the English language. Afterwards (and might I add that while we were all dying on the couch from laughter, Piedad was looking at us like the youth doesn't know what real humor is anymore), I showed them Rhett and Link's Dope Zebra video, because Chucktesta pops up at the end. They thought it was hilarious. They showed me the Chucktesta songify remix. Another classic.
It was so cool being able to relate and bond with the boys through stupid things on the internet. And I mean really, how cool is that? That with about 6,000 miles between us, we can laugh over the same stuff, no language barrier interfering. It's pretty great. Since I know you're dying to know what these hilarious videos are (if you have yet to see them) I've graciously supplied you with the YouTube links so you can go laugh your socks off like we did last night.
Chucktesta
Chucktesta Songify
Dope Zebra
This morning, on my way to school, I decided to take a different route that ended up cutting down my casco commute by 7 minutes! I would be more excited about this if I wasn't hit on three times on the way there. I've gone this entire trip without any of that, and this morning, boom boom boom. Record broken. The first old guy just did a little creepy click of his tongue and said something that I didn't even understand, so I just rolled my eyes and kept walking. The second guy was much more forward. "¡Qué bonita!" he shouted at me from the other side of the street (which, I should mention, was probably about 6 feet away from me; the streets really aren't all that wide in the casco). I just kept my head forward and kept walking, but he turned around and started following me! I'll admit, my heart started beating harder against my chest, but I wasn't too worried; it was almost 9am, there were few people in the streets but still enough to be comfortable, and, hey, I was a freaking girl scout, bitch. I know not only the correct definition of self defense, but how show a brother up as well. This guy kept following me, not right behind me; he left a few feet of space in between us (maybe he sensed the girl scout vibe) and kept talking to me, only I could only really pick up the words that were derogatory. I finally turned around and told him to leave me alone (this was a phrase we were taught in orientation before we left, thanks, Señor Sisson), and that seemed to do the trick. He probably didn't think I even spoke any spanish at all. He said a few last remarks before finally heading back the way he had come. The third ratty guy didn't get to say much, because I was so pissed for having to deal with scumbags #1 and #2 that when he went to say what was on his mind, I just cut him off my shouting "NO!" in his face and power walking away. I felt like such a bad ass. So now it's come to if I'd rather have a quiet walk to school in the morning or if I'd like to get there quicker. Tough one.
I hope everyone has a great 4th of July! Eat a hot dog for me.
Sunday, July 1, 2012
The Opposite of Culture Shock
Yesterday was the best day ever. I went with Piedad to Madridejos, which is a city about 40-ish miles southeast of Toledo, nowhere near Madrid at all. She actually grew up there. We went to a get-together with a bunch of her old friends from high school and a few of her cousins. To be honest, I really didn't want to go at first. My biggest fear was that I was going to look like a dumb American who wasn't able to comprehend anything or didn't know what to say. I told Piedad this on the car ride over, and then repeatedly kept checking phrases with her such as "Nice to meet you" or "I'm enjoying myself," to make sure I had them all down. "Stop worrying!" she told me. Turns out, I was being a little paranoid.
I keep forgetting Spaniards are just like Italians. They constantly kiss, drink, eat, and laugh and talk really loud. I felt right at home. After I introduced myself to the group and told them a little bit about myself (there were 11 of them), four or five of them said, "Her spanish is almost perfect!" I'll admit, the first thing that popped into my head after that comment was "these people have already had WAY too much to drink today." But I think they were being serious! Unless they were actually being sarcastic, and they very well could have been, because I definitely still suck at picking up on spanish sarcasm. But I guess there's always the chance that maybe I'm not giving myself enough credit.
This one guy, Felix, asked me to go to the supermarket with him, Luisa, and Sagrario.
On the way, Felix asked me what part of the US I was from. "Are you near New York?" I said "Felix yeah! How did you know that?" He told me he travels to NYC every year for a couple of months (so that's really the only place he knows of in the US; he had no idea I lived in NY). Oh and he OWNS A HOME THERE. I was baffled. I asked him if he can communicate well once he's there, and he said that he knows some English but a lot of people who live in Queens speak spanish anyway. I asked him if he could speak to me in English for a while to give my brain a break but he just smiled and said no.
When we returned with salad items, Cristina took me outside to show me the barnyard animals bumpin' around. We got to the end of the fence and she pointed to some cows. "Terneros." I didn't know what terneros meant so I said, "¡Sí, vacas!" "No, terneros," she said. "Vacas are for milk, terneros are for meat." Then she grinned and suddenly I was kind of afraid of Cristina.
For lunch we had paella! It was the coolest thing ever. They literally cooked it in a fire place in a skillet that must have been 2.5 feet in diameter. Seriously. People kept asking me if I preferred a plate. I was so confused. Of course I prefer a plate. What am I going to do, eat the paella with my han- ooohhh. They were asking me because we were going to set the skillet in the middle of the table and eat out of it together. "No plato, comeré sin un plato!" I said before they could hand me one. My logic was that if I had a plate, I would be forced to eat the 5 or 6 or 27 scoops of paella they put on it. If I just ate out of the skillet, there was no telling how much I ate (or didn't eat). I gave myself a pat on the back for that one. Besides the huge shrimp and crayfish and crab with the EYEBALLS still on them, the paella was not that scary and actually pretty freaking great. They also tried force-feeding me something that looked like Kahlua but I explained to them if I had more than three sips of it they'd have to revive me on the paella table.
After lunch we conversed; I slowly began to pick up more of what people were saying around me and it became much easier to get full sentences out without too many grammar mistakes. One by one, people left, pinching my cheeks as they went out and calling me "preciosa" or "linda." As the last of us got ready to leave, Felix asked to get a picture with them and the American girl in the middle (I was super pissed at myself for not bringing my camera and I think he sensed it). He took a few!
Piedad and I drove around Madridejos, stopping occasionally at the many random houses of her cousins to say hello. I met so many people. We ended up back at her moms house, which is freaking beautiful, I must say. All the walls are tiled pretty and the floors are marble or granite. Also, everyone in Spain owns a bidet (?). I mean that's cool if you're into that kind of thing. It just always kind of startles me when I walk into a bathroom and see one. Anyway. Piedad went to go take a nap (it was about 8pm at this point) and so I stayed in the living room with abuela. I wish I didn't. She was watching bull fighting. Let me just say a little thing about bull fighting. I'm pretty sure it's the dumbest, cruelest "sport" ever invented. People bring their 3-year-old children to watch this crap. "Come on honey, let's go see an innocent little bull get stabbed to death!" Like really. I'll spare you the details, but I'm pretty sure I had more of a culture shock watching that than I did when I first got to Spain. After the 3rd or 4th fight, the bullfighter was holding two floppy black things and waving them around over his head. "What is he holding?" I asked abuela. "If a bullfighter has a really great kill (what does that even mean?), they cut off the bulls ears and give them to him as a trophy!" she said like I should've known. Of course they would.
When Piedad woke up, abuela asked me if I wanted a snack. I told her my stomach wasn't really prepared for food after watching five bloody bulls get dragged out of the arena on tv. Piedad and I headed out to our last stop of the night, which was basically Madridejos's equivalent to Quaker Days in Orchard Park. For those of you reading this who have no idea what that means, it was basically just a big kick ass farmers market, with music, dancing, and way more vendors selling more things than just food. One of Piedad's friends who I had met earlier that day, Gregorio, had a tent set up and was selling his hand crafted woven baskets. They were truly a sight. He had a life-sized woven donkey as well, complete with ears and a tail. The rest of the amigos from earlier that day were there too to support Gregorio. Felix was sure to get a picture with "the American girl and the ass."
I was upset I didn't have any euros on me to buy one of Gregorio's baskets, but as we were leaving, he pulled me aside and gave me a little one for free! Just as words of thanks had come out of my mouth, I was being pulled in another direction by Justa, another friend, who insisted that I take one of her paintings she had mounted on a plaque. It was freaking great. I now have two hand crafted projects by two of the coolest people I've met here so far. Made in España!
I was more cultured in 8 hours yesterday than I could ever be by sitting in a classroom listening to my professors. What a blast. I'm pretty sure Piedad and I are going back next Sunday for...something. My brain was pretty tired last night and I didn't exactly pick up what's going down but nodded my head in agreement anyway like I had understood. The words 'vale,' 'sí,' 'está bien,' and 'bueno' all pretty much mean the same thing here, so if people say something and I don't understand, but I know it doesn't require an answer, I just rotate those. It's worked every time. I look like I know what's going on.
I keep forgetting Spaniards are just like Italians. They constantly kiss, drink, eat, and laugh and talk really loud. I felt right at home. After I introduced myself to the group and told them a little bit about myself (there were 11 of them), four or five of them said, "Her spanish is almost perfect!" I'll admit, the first thing that popped into my head after that comment was "these people have already had WAY too much to drink today." But I think they were being serious! Unless they were actually being sarcastic, and they very well could have been, because I definitely still suck at picking up on spanish sarcasm. But I guess there's always the chance that maybe I'm not giving myself enough credit.
This one guy, Felix, asked me to go to the supermarket with him, Luisa, and Sagrario.
Sidenote: I learned 11 names in 15 minutes. Thank you, skill acquired after becoming a YL leader. Moving on.
On the way, Felix asked me what part of the US I was from. "Are you near New York?" I said "Felix yeah! How did you know that?" He told me he travels to NYC every year for a couple of months (so that's really the only place he knows of in the US; he had no idea I lived in NY). Oh and he OWNS A HOME THERE. I was baffled. I asked him if he can communicate well once he's there, and he said that he knows some English but a lot of people who live in Queens speak spanish anyway. I asked him if he could speak to me in English for a while to give my brain a break but he just smiled and said no.
When we returned with salad items, Cristina took me outside to show me the barnyard animals bumpin' around. We got to the end of the fence and she pointed to some cows. "Terneros." I didn't know what terneros meant so I said, "¡Sí, vacas!" "No, terneros," she said. "Vacas are for milk, terneros are for meat." Then she grinned and suddenly I was kind of afraid of Cristina.
For lunch we had paella! It was the coolest thing ever. They literally cooked it in a fire place in a skillet that must have been 2.5 feet in diameter. Seriously. People kept asking me if I preferred a plate. I was so confused. Of course I prefer a plate. What am I going to do, eat the paella with my han- ooohhh. They were asking me because we were going to set the skillet in the middle of the table and eat out of it together. "No plato, comeré sin un plato!" I said before they could hand me one. My logic was that if I had a plate, I would be forced to eat the 5 or 6 or 27 scoops of paella they put on it. If I just ate out of the skillet, there was no telling how much I ate (or didn't eat). I gave myself a pat on the back for that one. Besides the huge shrimp and crayfish and crab with the EYEBALLS still on them, the paella was not that scary and actually pretty freaking great. They also tried force-feeding me something that looked like Kahlua but I explained to them if I had more than three sips of it they'd have to revive me on the paella table.
After lunch we conversed; I slowly began to pick up more of what people were saying around me and it became much easier to get full sentences out without too many grammar mistakes. One by one, people left, pinching my cheeks as they went out and calling me "preciosa" or "linda." As the last of us got ready to leave, Felix asked to get a picture with them and the American girl in the middle (I was super pissed at myself for not bringing my camera and I think he sensed it). He took a few!
Piedad and I drove around Madridejos, stopping occasionally at the many random houses of her cousins to say hello. I met so many people. We ended up back at her moms house, which is freaking beautiful, I must say. All the walls are tiled pretty and the floors are marble or granite. Also, everyone in Spain owns a bidet (?). I mean that's cool if you're into that kind of thing. It just always kind of startles me when I walk into a bathroom and see one. Anyway. Piedad went to go take a nap (it was about 8pm at this point) and so I stayed in the living room with abuela. I wish I didn't. She was watching bull fighting. Let me just say a little thing about bull fighting. I'm pretty sure it's the dumbest, cruelest "sport" ever invented. People bring their 3-year-old children to watch this crap. "Come on honey, let's go see an innocent little bull get stabbed to death!" Like really. I'll spare you the details, but I'm pretty sure I had more of a culture shock watching that than I did when I first got to Spain. After the 3rd or 4th fight, the bullfighter was holding two floppy black things and waving them around over his head. "What is he holding?" I asked abuela. "If a bullfighter has a really great kill (what does that even mean?), they cut off the bulls ears and give them to him as a trophy!" she said like I should've known. Of course they would.
When Piedad woke up, abuela asked me if I wanted a snack. I told her my stomach wasn't really prepared for food after watching five bloody bulls get dragged out of the arena on tv. Piedad and I headed out to our last stop of the night, which was basically Madridejos's equivalent to Quaker Days in Orchard Park. For those of you reading this who have no idea what that means, it was basically just a big kick ass farmers market, with music, dancing, and way more vendors selling more things than just food. One of Piedad's friends who I had met earlier that day, Gregorio, had a tent set up and was selling his hand crafted woven baskets. They were truly a sight. He had a life-sized woven donkey as well, complete with ears and a tail. The rest of the amigos from earlier that day were there too to support Gregorio. Felix was sure to get a picture with "the American girl and the ass."
 |
| Isn't this just great? |
I was upset I didn't have any euros on me to buy one of Gregorio's baskets, but as we were leaving, he pulled me aside and gave me a little one for free! Just as words of thanks had come out of my mouth, I was being pulled in another direction by Justa, another friend, who insisted that I take one of her paintings she had mounted on a plaque. It was freaking great. I now have two hand crafted projects by two of the coolest people I've met here so far. Made in España!
 |
| Me and Gregorio! |
I was more cultured in 8 hours yesterday than I could ever be by sitting in a classroom listening to my professors. What a blast. I'm pretty sure Piedad and I are going back next Sunday for...something. My brain was pretty tired last night and I didn't exactly pick up what's going down but nodded my head in agreement anyway like I had understood. The words 'vale,' 'sí,' 'está bien,' and 'bueno' all pretty much mean the same thing here, so if people say something and I don't understand, but I know it doesn't require an answer, I just rotate those. It's worked every time. I look like I know what's going on.
Wednesday, June 27, 2012
Hitting the Wall
Well, I think I've officially hit the wall. During my first week here, I felt myself improving with my spanish within the first two days of being here. I got better and better at understanding Piedad and my professors and being able to communicate myself as the week went on.
However, now, I feel like I'm back in 7th grade learning spanish for the first time. And I'm not the only one who thinks this. I've had confirmation from my compañeros (classmates). Classes are harder to sit through since I pick up maybe half of what my professors are saying and I find myself asking "What? Say that again? Pardon me?" way more than I want to. It's a tad frustrating but my prediction is that this is just the sucky second week. Haven't you heard of this? It's a thing. Studies show that [insert problem here] tends to get worse before it can get better. When I was in high school, my second quarter grades would always be way worse than my first quarter grades, but I'd bring them up. After exercising, the second day of your muscles being sore is literally so much more painful than the first day, but you stretch em out and they relax a bit. I can only imagine a second trimester of a pregnancy must blow...people aren't sure if you're prego or not because you've got that little pooch but nothing substantial to hold a baby...I think I may be getting off topic. The point is, this second week here will most likely end with me believing I'll never speak spanish again and the poof! We'll all be pros from there on out.
I went to a dance class last night! We learned a little bit of flamenco and salsa and meringue. It was...interesting. My hips hurt afterwards, no joke. And my wrists from doing that little spiny thing with them.
Today I had a pretty eventful day. My theater class is so boss. Little do my classmates know I was that kid in high school. The one who did all the plays and musicals. Not ashamed. This class is so fun! Today we improv-ed and acted out scenes in front of each other. For our final exam, we have to put on a play for the entire student body studying at UCLM (Universidad de Castilla-La Mancha) this summer. That's about 200, if you're curious. I'm only slightly concerned because we haven't been told anything about it yet and we've only got 3 weeks to go after tomorrow. Hopefully scripts will be allowed on stage.
After class, our professor explained to us that there was a photo crew there from "Dos UCLM," which is basically an organization that works for the university and promotes awesome learning and love around campus. They were looking for volunteers to have their picture taken with a big red heart drawn somewhere on their body, so we did! Most the boys had them drawn on their biceps. I would've too but didn't want to embarrass them. I'll post the link where the pictures will be when they're up!
I didn't have time for a siesta today because we took a field trip to the largest cathedral in Toledo. It was huge. And looked pretty similar to the ones we've seen. My history teacher really likes to repeat himself, which is great, because it gets engrained into your brain, but it sucks, because it's engrained into your brain. We get it, Davíd. Góticos = siglos doce, trece, y catorce, entonces las romanes, con arcos y vidieras...see? I can repeat this stuff in my sleep.
Piedad made me a cheeseburger tonight. What a woman.
However, now, I feel like I'm back in 7th grade learning spanish for the first time. And I'm not the only one who thinks this. I've had confirmation from my compañeros (classmates). Classes are harder to sit through since I pick up maybe half of what my professors are saying and I find myself asking "What? Say that again? Pardon me?" way more than I want to. It's a tad frustrating but my prediction is that this is just the sucky second week. Haven't you heard of this? It's a thing. Studies show that [insert problem here] tends to get worse before it can get better. When I was in high school, my second quarter grades would always be way worse than my first quarter grades, but I'd bring them up. After exercising, the second day of your muscles being sore is literally so much more painful than the first day, but you stretch em out and they relax a bit. I can only imagine a second trimester of a pregnancy must blow...people aren't sure if you're prego or not because you've got that little pooch but nothing substantial to hold a baby...I think I may be getting off topic. The point is, this second week here will most likely end with me believing I'll never speak spanish again and the poof! We'll all be pros from there on out.
I went to a dance class last night! We learned a little bit of flamenco and salsa and meringue. It was...interesting. My hips hurt afterwards, no joke. And my wrists from doing that little spiny thing with them.
Today I had a pretty eventful day. My theater class is so boss. Little do my classmates know I was that kid in high school. The one who did all the plays and musicals. Not ashamed. This class is so fun! Today we improv-ed and acted out scenes in front of each other. For our final exam, we have to put on a play for the entire student body studying at UCLM (Universidad de Castilla-La Mancha) this summer. That's about 200, if you're curious. I'm only slightly concerned because we haven't been told anything about it yet and we've only got 3 weeks to go after tomorrow. Hopefully scripts will be allowed on stage.
After class, our professor explained to us that there was a photo crew there from "Dos UCLM," which is basically an organization that works for the university and promotes awesome learning and love around campus. They were looking for volunteers to have their picture taken with a big red heart drawn somewhere on their body, so we did! Most the boys had them drawn on their biceps. I would've too but didn't want to embarrass them. I'll post the link where the pictures will be when they're up!
I didn't have time for a siesta today because we took a field trip to the largest cathedral in Toledo. It was huge. And looked pretty similar to the ones we've seen. My history teacher really likes to repeat himself, which is great, because it gets engrained into your brain, but it sucks, because it's engrained into your brain. We get it, Davíd. Góticos = siglos doce, trece, y catorce, entonces las romanes, con arcos y vidieras...see? I can repeat this stuff in my sleep.
Piedad made me a cheeseburger tonight. What a woman.
Sunday, June 24, 2012
Week One, Check
It's been quite a week here! It's gone by super slow and super fast at the same time. I can't believe I'm already a week in!
Just a quick update on the goings on of the past week:
Monday was the first day of classes. I found the building perfectly fine and everything and was feelin great when suddenly, out of nowhere, nausea hit me like Muhammad. I figured out later it was probably just a combination of dehydration, no sleep, stress, and major anxiety, but at the moment, all I could think of was me just hurling everywhere on the first day of class. I leaned forward in my seat and asked my director where the nearest bathroom was. He directed me to my one professor who told me how to get there. I thought he said "go left, then right," but he actually said "go right, then left." My ears were doing that ocean wave thing right before you're about to faint. You know the feeling. I stumbled out of the classroom and all around the courtyard trying to find the nearest bathroom. There was some sort of black tie affair going on outside, with ladies in fancy dresses and men in tuxedos and waiters with bow-ties all around. And suddenly, my body didn't feel like waiting for me to find a bathroom anymore. I grabbed the nearest thing with a hole in it and hurled in the middle of the fancy-pants party with the fancy-pants people. It's actually really freaking funny when I think about it now. But at the time I was just feeling awful, especially because I had just thrown up into a recycle bin. My teacher must have been watching me struggle because he ran out of the classroom and actually took me by the arm to the nearest bathroom. "You look as white as a sheet," he said in almost understandable spanish. "Probably," was all I could get out. After that incident, though, the week was much better.
Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, I pretty much figured out exactly how eating goes around here. Breakfast the second after you wake up, a huge lunch at 2:30, tapas (appetizers) at 5 or 6, a huge dinner at 10:30. That's pretty much how it's gone every day. Wednesday, my host mom's mom came into town to stay a couple of days. This woman literally told me to "get fatter." On Thursday we were sitting and talking at the kitchen table waiting for lunch to be done, each with our own plates in front of us. When the buzzer went off, she picked up her own plate and began scooping. One, two, three, four, five, SIX ladles later, I thought to myself, "Thank goodness that's not for me and I'll be able to serve myself a reasonable amount that I can actually intake." Wrong, Ang. So wrong. She puts the dish down in front of me. "For me?" I ask her. "Of course it's for you," she says. "But it's so much," I reply. "I don't care." Literally. That's how it goes here in good ol' España. They feed you until you LITERALLY can't take in any more food for fear your stomach might ACTUALLY burst. And I thought Italians were bad.
Friday my classmates and I took a trip to Segovia! It's a town about 2 hours away from Toledo, with huge aqueducts and lots of awesome churches. Our history professor came with us. He's actually really awesome. He'd be awesomer if I could understand his Spanish better. We climbed to the top of the aqueducts and just as I was peering over the side to get a better look, he said "Yeah, a lot of people actually fell to their deaths while building this; they didn't have any way to keep themselves strapped in." I took a few steps back.
When I got home that night, Piedad and I watched a game show called "Pasapalabra" (pass the word). It's an awesome game show. Still super corny like the ones in the US, but pretty fun and sort of easy for me to follow along. I'm sure I'll get better at understanding what's going on the more I watch it.
And today we went to church! Almost everyone in Spain is catholic. The church was beautiful. More stained glass in one place than I've ever seen in my life. It was pretty easy to follow along, too, since I know the structure of mass. All I really got out of the sermon, though, was that Jesus needs us to be lights for the world. Oh and he talked about Mary and Elizabeth being cousins; I don't know why (the gospel was out of Luke). Simple enough.
You know those stereotypes everyone has about Spain in the United States? THEY'RE ALL TRUE. All of them. I've only been here a week and I walk down the streets saying to myself, "Stereotype confirmed, stereotype validated."
-Everyone feeds you until you explode and you get a dirty look if you finish but don't want anymore food.
-Women do everything. Cook, clean, mop. Piedad yells at me if I try to wash a fork.
-Everything is a stick shift. Even the big big buses. They roll backward before they go forward.
-There's graffiti everywhere. Well, not everywhere, but most places. Especially on the highways and buildings and such. It must be why Graffiti Pete is such a big deal in In the Heights.
-Women talk at the same time. In person, on the phone, anytime of the day, women are always trying to talk over each other. It results in yelling most of the time. And it happens constantly and I'm not exaggerating even a little. You know Gloria from Modern Family? Exactly.
But seriously, I'm really beginning to enjoy my time here. It's a lot different but there are things here that I can get used to. For example, it's totally acceptable to pass out for a nap at literally any time of the day. And for however long you want. Definitely have taken advantage of that almost every day. I miss home like crazy; my family, my kitty, streets that are familiar, oh and being in the same time zone as everyone I communicate with. That's a big one. But I've been told a million times already that I won't want to leave when my time is finally up here. It's probably true.
Just a quick update on the goings on of the past week:
Monday was the first day of classes. I found the building perfectly fine and everything and was feelin great when suddenly, out of nowhere, nausea hit me like Muhammad. I figured out later it was probably just a combination of dehydration, no sleep, stress, and major anxiety, but at the moment, all I could think of was me just hurling everywhere on the first day of class. I leaned forward in my seat and asked my director where the nearest bathroom was. He directed me to my one professor who told me how to get there. I thought he said "go left, then right," but he actually said "go right, then left." My ears were doing that ocean wave thing right before you're about to faint. You know the feeling. I stumbled out of the classroom and all around the courtyard trying to find the nearest bathroom. There was some sort of black tie affair going on outside, with ladies in fancy dresses and men in tuxedos and waiters with bow-ties all around. And suddenly, my body didn't feel like waiting for me to find a bathroom anymore. I grabbed the nearest thing with a hole in it and hurled in the middle of the fancy-pants party with the fancy-pants people. It's actually really freaking funny when I think about it now. But at the time I was just feeling awful, especially because I had just thrown up into a recycle bin. My teacher must have been watching me struggle because he ran out of the classroom and actually took me by the arm to the nearest bathroom. "You look as white as a sheet," he said in almost understandable spanish. "Probably," was all I could get out. After that incident, though, the week was much better.
Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday, I pretty much figured out exactly how eating goes around here. Breakfast the second after you wake up, a huge lunch at 2:30, tapas (appetizers) at 5 or 6, a huge dinner at 10:30. That's pretty much how it's gone every day. Wednesday, my host mom's mom came into town to stay a couple of days. This woman literally told me to "get fatter." On Thursday we were sitting and talking at the kitchen table waiting for lunch to be done, each with our own plates in front of us. When the buzzer went off, she picked up her own plate and began scooping. One, two, three, four, five, SIX ladles later, I thought to myself, "Thank goodness that's not for me and I'll be able to serve myself a reasonable amount that I can actually intake." Wrong, Ang. So wrong. She puts the dish down in front of me. "For me?" I ask her. "Of course it's for you," she says. "But it's so much," I reply. "I don't care." Literally. That's how it goes here in good ol' España. They feed you until you LITERALLY can't take in any more food for fear your stomach might ACTUALLY burst. And I thought Italians were bad.
Friday my classmates and I took a trip to Segovia! It's a town about 2 hours away from Toledo, with huge aqueducts and lots of awesome churches. Our history professor came with us. He's actually really awesome. He'd be awesomer if I could understand his Spanish better. We climbed to the top of the aqueducts and just as I was peering over the side to get a better look, he said "Yeah, a lot of people actually fell to their deaths while building this; they didn't have any way to keep themselves strapped in." I took a few steps back.
When I got home that night, Piedad and I watched a game show called "Pasapalabra" (pass the word). It's an awesome game show. Still super corny like the ones in the US, but pretty fun and sort of easy for me to follow along. I'm sure I'll get better at understanding what's going on the more I watch it.
And today we went to church! Almost everyone in Spain is catholic. The church was beautiful. More stained glass in one place than I've ever seen in my life. It was pretty easy to follow along, too, since I know the structure of mass. All I really got out of the sermon, though, was that Jesus needs us to be lights for the world. Oh and he talked about Mary and Elizabeth being cousins; I don't know why (the gospel was out of Luke). Simple enough.
You know those stereotypes everyone has about Spain in the United States? THEY'RE ALL TRUE. All of them. I've only been here a week and I walk down the streets saying to myself, "Stereotype confirmed, stereotype validated."
-Everyone feeds you until you explode and you get a dirty look if you finish but don't want anymore food.
-Women do everything. Cook, clean, mop. Piedad yells at me if I try to wash a fork.
-Everything is a stick shift. Even the big big buses. They roll backward before they go forward.
-There's graffiti everywhere. Well, not everywhere, but most places. Especially on the highways and buildings and such. It must be why Graffiti Pete is such a big deal in In the Heights.
-Women talk at the same time. In person, on the phone, anytime of the day, women are always trying to talk over each other. It results in yelling most of the time. And it happens constantly and I'm not exaggerating even a little. You know Gloria from Modern Family? Exactly.
But seriously, I'm really beginning to enjoy my time here. It's a lot different but there are things here that I can get used to. For example, it's totally acceptable to pass out for a nap at literally any time of the day. And for however long you want. Definitely have taken advantage of that almost every day. I miss home like crazy; my family, my kitty, streets that are familiar, oh and being in the same time zone as everyone I communicate with. That's a big one. But I've been told a million times already that I won't want to leave when my time is finally up here. It's probably true.
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