Pledge.....

to catch up on my blogging.........tonight....or tomorrow........... or this weekend.  i promise :)

Look forward to:
-Sevilla
-Prague
-Vienna
-Budapest
-Nerja

woah.  i'm lucky i took notes!

Lazy saturday

Sitting with Conchi, watching some poorly dubbed movie, going for a walk later :)

ADIOS BEGOÑA y HOLA CONCHI

Now that I’m out of my old host family’s house, now is a good time to look back and laugh at all of the things that happened while I was there.  This isn’t meant to make anyone feel bad or anything, because I honestly look back now and LAUGH.  Also, I am now living with the sweetest and most caring woman in the world, and I already feel so much more at home.

Anyway, so Begoña and Paco were nice at first.  Everything was nice.  They had a big apartment, and I had a big room with my own bathroom, and internet too!  They gave me the key and told me that I was like their daughter while I’m in spain.  They told me that their family eats healthy and that they don’t eat sweets (I could deal with this).  Things seemed to be okay.  ON my first night, I feel asleep on their couch while watching a movie with them, and I was trying to get into the swing of things by doing what they were doing and following their rules and everything.   Things were good. 

But that didn’t last long.  A couple of days after I had been living with them, everything went downhill.  At the time, I was having a very difficult time distinguishing between a bad host family and culture shock: I thought that what I was feeling was culture shock, so I just went along with it and followed whatever they were telling me.  After comparing to my other friends’ experiences, I realized that they were just un poco loco.  The housing director called them “perfectionistas.”

There were a lot of things that were leading up to the day where things exploded.  They weren’t very warm to me.  I would come home, say hi, and go to my room without them really saying a word to me.  I dreaded them coming into my room, because it was them either telling me that I was doing something wrong or that it was time to eat, which meant that I would have to sit at the dinner table and listen to them talk while I at in silence.  Every once in a while, they would ask me a question, and if I didn’t understand the first or second time, they grew visibly impatient and dropped the question.  I was terrified to speak in Spanish because they would act like they could understand what I was saying unless I said it perfectly, instead of just correcting me.  If I would say something about how we do things in America, they would tell me why Spain was better instead of just accepting my culture and learning from it.  These were a bunch of the little things that happened while I was there, and all of this just seemed to be culture shock to me. That’s when a bunch of things happened—one after the other—that led me to believe that this was something more.

I was in my room taking a nap one day.  I had been out late the night before and was really tired.  My host mom came in my room and woke me up.  She looked at me and questioned to me as why I wasn’t doing my homework.  She told me that if I wanted to continue going to school I had to do my homework (I learned later that in Spain, academics are free, and then if you have good grades, the government gives you money for other expenses, such as food and living).  I told her I didn’t have any homework and she looked bothered by that.  Then, she told me to get out of bed because she had something to show me.  She brought me to the kitchen and showed me the dishes from the morning as well as the toaster still out (my host family gets up early and leaves out some pieces of bread and café con leche for me), and asked me why the kitchen was dirty.  I said that didn’t know.  She told me that in the morning, I was expected to clean all of the breakfast dishes, dry them, put them away, and clean off the counters.  This wouldn’t have bothered me that much had it been what was going on in all of my other friends’ houses: but my experience was different.

Then, after I cleaned the kitchen, it was time for lunch.  When I started to cut my food, they told me that I had bad manners, and I asked why.  They said that I did not cut in the correct manner, and that if I ever wanted to get a job or get married, it was necessary that I learn the right way.   They asked if my boyfriend or my family had ever mentioned anything about it and I said no.  At this point I was smiling and nodding politely.  When I didn’t change, my host mom got out of her chair and took my silverware out of my hands, and then put them back in my hands in the “correct” way.  I was very taken aback, but I didn’t want to be rude, so I tried to eat my food this way.  I couldn’t, and they were staring at me, so I told them I was full and didn’t want to eat anymore.  They gave me an orange and I started to peel it.  They told me to STOP because I was eating with poor manners again.  They made me peel my orange with a knife, and Begoña showed me how to separate all of the pieces and put them neatly on a plate to eat.  I felt like I was Rose from the Titanic at this point.  Now, I might have let all of this slide, but then they dropped the BOMB.  They told me that I had a 10:00 curfew, and that I had to be home by 10:00, Sundays through Wednesdays.

The next day, I went and talked the secretary at my school and explained this to her.  I told her that I wanted to switch.  She told me that she would talk to my host mom and that if things didn’t get better that I could switch.

When I went back that afternoon, Begoña told me that I didn’t have a curfew anymore (later, I realized she might have just said this because she didn’t want me to switch and lose money).  That day, everything was fine.  However, after that, things went downhill again. 

I have to add that I believe that they truly were treating me like one of their children.  They seem to be the controlling type of parents, who really need to control every part of their children’s lives.  When hearing them talk on the phone, I realized that they wont let their vet and doctor kids in training get anything less than A+++, in school, and with life. 

When I would get home from school at night, they would have a bocadillo for me, and tell me that I could take it to my room so that I could do homework while I eat.  I probably said about a paragraph’s worth of words to them the whole time that I was there.  She told me to clean my room—I don’t know if you’ve ever seen my room at school, but my room in my host family’s house was of a perfectionist’s standards.  All but a few papers were out on my desk.  They told me it was very dirty.  CARAMBA

The following are things that happened that made me believe that they were only having me for the money.  In 2 weeks, Begoña had done one load of my whites (she should have done 4 loads by that point).  I got a little bit of makeup on a towel on accident, and she scolded me saying that they were new towels and that I had ruined them.  In addition to that, they had my heater on a timer, and it was on for about 20 minutes a day.  It wasn’t getting hot at all in my room, so I turned up my heater so that it would get hot in the short amount of time.  They taped the control on the heater so that I couldn’t change it.  On a number of occasions, I would eat something cheap for dinner, like a bowl of pasta, and they would make something more expensive, like fish with mixed vegetable.  They would eat with me when they did this.  Also, one day when they were gone, I found DELICIOUS PASTRIES HIDDEN IN THE BACK OF THEIR FRIDGE!  It wasn't that they didn't eat sweets, it was just that they didn't want me to know that they ate sweets.

All of these things led me to want to switch families.  I told the secretary and she found that Conchi, Elise’s old host mom was available.  I talked to Violeta, the housing director, and I was able to move in the next day if I liked her.

The day before I knew I was going to leave my family, we were at lunch.  They told me that it was my responsibility to clean up after lunch.  At this point, I knew that I had made a good choice.  I wonder how far they would have gone with chores?  I don’t know.

Anyway, so the next day, I met Conchi and I LOVED her.  Her apartment is about ¼ of the size of the other one, but it has so much more love and happiness.  We’re always smiling and laughing, and she’s always telling me how happy she is that I’m here.  Violeta told my old host family that I was moving out 1 hour before I did, so I luckily didn’t need to deal with all of that awkwardness.  Violeta told me that Begoña wanted to say goodbye, and I really still don’t understand that, because it felt like they hated me.

When I first got here, Conchi gave me an orange and I peeled it with my hands and ate it off of a paper towel on the couch.  Last night, I scraped off my plate and brought it to the sink to watch: she told me to leave it.  Right now, she asked me if I wanted hot chocolate with madeleines (a pastry).  (funny side story: when I got here, she was showing me around and told me that she keeps the madeleines in the cupboard.  I must have had a horrified look on my face but then I realized what she meant and we both laughed together) I got up to get it myself and she told me to sit, because she was my mother and she was here to take care of me.  This is the way things are supposed to be, and I am very happy.

Confessions Part II

K, there's only one blog titled "confessions" but I wanted to make an Usher Reference.  

1. I'm in LOVE with Spain! I could literally move here one day!

2. I don't feel guilty on spending money on trips, surprisingly.  I'm fully looking forward to my first break! (Vienna, Budapest, and Prague!)  I've heard that these places are absolutely stunning, and I REALLY CAN'T WAIT :)

3. I need to use my camera more, even just walking through the streets and to class.  I feel myself starting to get used to everything, but I never want to take Europe for granted.

4. I just ate a whole bag of chocolate covered corn, apparently a delicious candy in Spain; that, and it was 100% cheaper than a little kit kat bar.  yep, I ate the whole thing. yummmmmmmm

5. I'm packing right now, because I'm moving in with my new host family tomorrow, and I really can't wait.  After I'm all moved in, stay tuned for a piece about my crazy ex-host family.

6. I feel the days flying by, and know that home will come sooner than I think

7. I'm so lucky to have so many of my wonderful friends here, and to make lots of new ones.  But, I miss my friends that aren't here more than anything in the world.  

8. When I'm sitting in class, I daydream.  But not about traveling or about what I'm going to do that night.  I have a recurring daydream that I'm sitting on a big comfy couch and laughing with Adam while we watch a movie.  This is starting to make me realize that, of all the most beautiful places I can be in the world, and all of the adventures that I am going to have, at the end of the day, the only place I want to be is with the people I love.  This leads me to my next confession:

9. I miss hanging out with my family.  I miss cooking for my family.  I miss Sunday morning coffee with my family.  I miss screaming at my family when I'm in a bad mood.  I miss fires and movies and the occasional game.  I miss grandma and her cute forgetfulness.  I miss helping Juliette come up with the perfect word to use in her dissertation.  I miss playing drinking games with the fam, +Adam, Brian, Justin, and CJ.  I miss Christina and how she always just wants to BE with me.  I miss Michael, so much, and this is the furthest and the longest we've ever been apart.  I miss laughing with him and watching movies and cooking for him and being his best friend.  I miss Robert and how kind he is.  I miss how he can always make me laugh, and how he always makes me smile, and just wants to spend time with me.  I miss Thomas and how adorable he is, and how he's truly the light of my life.  I miss taking him on errands with me, and I miss how he loves me so much, no matter what.  I miss my mom and how she always makes me feel special, and how she makes me feel like the favorite child.  I miss her hugs and how we can always laugh together.  I miss my dad and how he always understands me and always does anything in the world to make me happy.  I miss how, even in the darkest of moments, he shows me the light.  I miss everyone so much.  I love them now more than ever.

10.  Spain has been the best decision I've ever made for myself.  It is making me feel like myself again, in ways I couldn't even imagine.  It gives me so much joy, takes away my anxieties, and makes me so grateful that I have such an amazing opportunity to be here.  I am so excited for what this semester has to bring :)

Guinness on my white shirt: a going out story

So last night was a GOOD night.

Zach and Esteban were performing at Hannigans 2 last night, so a bunch of us went, obviously.  Andrea and I met beforehand to get some drinks in the plaza.  I got 1.5 litres of Tinto de Verano for 2 euro!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! QUE GUEY!!!!!

For those of you who don't know, tinto de verano is my drink of choice here.  For all of you reading at home, you NEED to try it.  It's just half red wine/half lemonade.  And it is SO good.  It's specifically known to Andalusia, the southern part of Spain where i am!

Anyway, so then we headed over to Hannigan's 2 and heard them play!  Esteban was hilarious, as always, and Zach has the voice of GAVIN DEGRAW.  Like, exactly.  I thought it was actually him.  Anyway, so there was a spot onstage, and I thought it would be an AMAZING idea to be apart of the band (after this Scottish chick drew the flag of Scotland on my cheek).  I'm not going to lie, that was a good time!

Anyway, flashforward and I'm at the bar getting a Guinness (after drinking so many Christmas ales over break, I've acquired a taste for dark beers! Thanks Keen Family :))  There is this IRISH bartender who works at Hannigans 1 and 2, and we swear that he stalks us.  And there's a good reason: because the group of American girls + his Irish accent and suave = $$$$$$$$$$$$$$ for Hannigans!
Ejemplo/Case Study: I'm not easily wooed, let me get that straight.  But this guy has the nerve to give my my Guinness, say "thanks, love" in that cute Irish accent, and then WINK AT ME.  I was so taken aback that I SPILLED MY GUINNESS ALL OVER MYSELF.  Andrea captured the moment with this lovely picture.

After that, Bruce walked me home and I went to bed, smiling at my wonderful night :)

My Siesta Epiphany....and fighting off a Mugger

Today, during siesta, I was forced to truly understand the meaning of siesta.  Here’s how it all went down.

Andrea, Cory, Meg and I were supposed to meet during siesta to book our flights for our first break.  Through a series of misunderstandings, I was the only one who had told their host mom that they wouldn’t be there for el almuerzo.  So, after realizing this, I was a bit pissed off that I was missing lunch, and I didn’t want to go home because that would just be awkward.  So, I decided to visit the pasta man.

Pasta man is this guy from Italy who owns a little pastería.  He makes his own pastas and sauces fresh everyday, and I’d been meaning to try it anyway.  I got rotini with arribiata sauce and it was SO GOOD.  I brought my pasta to the “churros con chocolate plaza” (there are names for plazas here, we just come up with our own) and at it on a bench.  It took me all of 15 minutes to finish it.  At this point I became annoyed that I had to kill an hour and a half more. 

I thought to myself, oh I’ll go get some face wash; the pharmacy was closed.  Then I thought, oh, I’ll walk around some stores; they were closed.  Desperately searching for some sort of activity, I finally just started walking around.  The ONLY places that are opened during siesta are the Chino stores (run by the Asians) and cafes/restaurants.  So, since I was thirsty, I grabbed a coke from the chino store and discovered the “legal to drink alcohol here plaza” that I’ve heard so much about.  The fountain was turned off (yes, apparently even fountains take a break during siesta) but I sat in the sort-of-barren plaza anyway. 

I popped open my coke and just kind of….sat there.  I looked around and saw some people eating at a café outside.  A man on a bike rode past me.  A father and his son were feeding some pigeons.  And I was having an epiphany about siesta.

Siestas are basically FORCED relaxation.  At that moment, when I was sitting on a bench, drinking my coke, I had never felt more aware of my own presence.  I know that sound weird, but I always say that life is too short, and I never truly sit and appreciate the fact that I exist on this earth.  I like doing instead of just being.  This moment made me realize that siesta is a time to just RELAX and take a moment out of your day to appreciate your life, to ponder, to think, and to simply enjoy life.  Siestas might be my new favorite part about Spain J


......Later during my siesta...........


I'm typing this on my computer, when this guy comes up to me.  He has a broken arm and he keeps pointing at his arm and talking really quickly in Spanish.  I couldn't understand him, so I kept saying "NO, No gracias, déjame, etc" over and over again.  This guy didn't get the hint.  Then , he started to point at his cast, then at my computer.  That set me OFF.  I jumped up, threw my computer into my backpack and SCREAMED "DÉJAME."  


The guy gave me a terrified look and ran away.
I win.


NOTE: people in Andalusia apparently over-exaggerate everything, hence the title to this blog

Reblog from Danielle

I wanted to reblog this from my friend Danielle, because I don't think that I could've come up with anything better if I tried.  All of this is so true!

"Some random things I’ve learned about Spain and other cultures in general since I’ve been here!

1.       I don’t know if Americans move too fast or Spaniards move too slow, but one of the groups has to figure it out.  America is all about customer service and Spain is all about patience, taking your time, and enjoying the moment. Let me tell you, its hard to adjust when the 2 cashiers are having a random conversation and all you want is your damn café con leche.

2.       Everything stops for siesta.  Literally.  Parents go get their kids out of school and from 2:30-4 all life stops in Granada.  Stores aren’t open, banks close up for the day, etc.  even school closes down for these few hours!  The streets are packed by 2:15 with people bustling home and by 3:00 it looks like a deserted town!

3.       Not all signs or body gestures are universal.  Exhibit A: a slight wave of your hand doesn’t mean “thank you for giving me the right-of-way to cross the street” it can have other inferences like “I’m easy.” Glad I learned that one.

4.       Appliances in Spain are extremely expensive.  This is why most houses don’t have central heating (I’m one of the lucky few that do!) and they just use space heaters.  Same thing with electricity and water… I use natural light pretty much all day and in between soaping up and rinsing off I try to turn off the water as much as possible.

5.       Spaniards have a totally different mindset for drinking.  They never get drunk, in fact if you’re a woman and publicly intoxicated it is seen as extremely poor manners and looked down upon in society.  This is one of the main reasons for tapas here; you are drinking a beverage but also eating food at the same time aka you always have something in your stomach.

6.       I will never take internet for granted again.  EVER.

7.       Overall, they have a very simple way of living.  Granada is actually probably one of the poorer parts of Spain because they don’t have industrial zones, they rely more on agriculture.  At first I thought that this would be difficult, but the truth is they don’t need the money because they can live on very little and make it work.

8.       We’ve all concluded our university (Cegri) is a fake school (jokingly). Miguel Angel (director of the program) is married to his assistant, Nerea. The housing coordinator, Violeta, is married to the director of Cegri, also named Miguel.  Their daughter, Yanira, is one of my professoras.  Small world eh?

9.       I’ve not seen one person wearing sweatpants here.  Actually, most days I feel under-dressed because I’m not in heels like all the other women. Americans need to stop being so lazy!

10.   A little kid speaking Spanish is just so much cuter than a little kid speaking English, I don’t know why."