Though I’ve obviously been back from Spain for quite some time now, I am by no means done learning about Spanish and Spanish-speaking countries. So, if you enjoyed reading this blog, feel free to visit my personal Spanish education website, where I will be doing a some partly-bilingual blogging and posting teaching resources.
You can find it here: http://kluscombe.weebly.com
Como siempre, ¡gracias por leer!
It has been almost four months since I returned from Spain, which is equal to the amount of time I actually spent there, and another excellent reinforcer of how little time four months is. I never really did a wrap-up of my experience or my travels, so I thought I would do that now, if there is still anyone who wants to read it.
Back from Italy
After I had exhausted myself in Rome and the Vatican (and GOOD GOD it was exhausting to meander through 20-person tour groups all day long), I got on the first of four planes I would take in a two-day period. I went from Rome to Valencia, where I would spend one last night in my house.
I had turned in my keys to María José right before I left for the week, so she had me call the house when I got off the plane to make sure someone was home to let me in. (Bonus: I got to take the brand new Metro from the airport!) I threw my stuff down on the bed that, 7 days ago, had been “mine,” but I felt like it was January again– I was occupying a neat and tidy guest room ready for whomever happened to be the next inhabitant. It was late afternoon, so when I got home, it was no surprise that people weren’t just sitting around all day. Good idea, I thought. I was excited to have one last walk around the city.
Perfect way to say “adios”
Thankfully, it was Sunday and most of the shops were closed, because otherwise I would’ve frantically spent an exorbitant money on last minute things I didn’t need and would have never fit in my suitcase. I took a brisk walk around the main center of the city and longingly gazed at all of the sights I wouldn’t see again for a very long time, and kicking myself whenever I thought of something I never got around to doing (which, no matter what, would have been an endless list.)
When I was coming around Calle de Paz, passing the zumería (mmmm…) I realized that the Plaza de la Reina was packed with people. Well, that explained the random falleras I had seen walking around earlier. People were crammed against barricades, eager to get a good view of the soon-to-come processions, and I asked asked the Spanish lady next to me if she knew what was going on today. She seemed slightly amused that I was clueless about this apparently important fiesta, but smiled and explained that it was the day of La Virgen de los Desamparados, or Our Lady of the Forsaken, who is the Patron Virgin of Valencia. (This is the same version of Mary that they decorate with flowers at the offering during Las Fallas) Que suerte, ¿no?
Of course, I decided to stick around and watch the procession. It was absolutely beautiful. Not wild or crazy, but peaceful, passionate, and slightly solemn, even in the midst of all the people in the streets. A steady drum beat kept time for everyone. There were Catholic religious figures that I really don’t want to mess up, but I think they were Cardinals, military men, priests, and I even recognized Francisco Camps, president of la Comunidad Valenciana, from the newspapers. Then came the Virgin, and ornately decorated figure carried high in the air by some male falleros. This is when it really got good–people were clapping and showering her with rose petels, throwing handfuls from the balcony and covering the street. Many old women seemed to get very emotional–la Virgen de los Desamparados, I later learned, is an extremely important symbol for Valencia.
Then, as quickly as the procession had seemed to sneak up on me, it vanished. When the last person passed, the spectators swarmed the streets, treading on the rose petals on their way back home. Just like they did post-Fallas, the street cleaning trucks took to the mess, sucking up the flood of petals with the huge circular brushes. And just like that, it was gone.
When I got back to the apartment, I ran into Mireia, who was taking her dog for a walk with Javi. She gave me a hug and welcomed me back, and said she had come over to have dinner on my last night. I was surprised and delighted. Mireia, Javi, María José, Ricardo and I went next door to the sandwich restaurant, Bocátame (”Sandwich Me”), where la familia Llisterri were clearly known regulars. It was really fun, as I loved seeing the fam be social, and I got to go to the place that was literally connected to my building, but I had never been to. Everyone was happy, relaxed, and having a great time. Of course, we talked about Mireia and Javi’s upcoming wedding, and I assured her that, yes, it is very common and convenient in the US to include RSVP cards in the invitation to avoid a mass influx of phone calls.
Home (and a detour)
Then before I knew it , it was morning. There was one last goodbye to the madre, and I thanked her for everything, but the first one (before my trip) was much sadder for me. I think it acted like a rehearsal. She couldn’t believe how huge my bags were, and frankly, I couldn’t either!
I went from Valencia to Madrid, changed planes, then from Madrid to New York with fairly no problems. I was really happy to be sitting next to a Spaniard on the 7 hour flight back, as to kind of stretch Spain out as long and as far as I could. I mean, a Spaniard wouldn’t think it was weird for me to get a vino tinto as my beverage of choice, and it was fun to talk about ending my trip and give her lots of NYC shopping advice in Spanish.
When I got off the plane, I made a mad dash to LaGuardia and checked my bags for my flight to Detroit. Then, I hopped a cab into the city over to the new Hearst Tower, because I decided to schedule an interview at a magazine for a summer internship in my five-hour time block between planes. Genius, I know. (FYI: They offered me the internship, but I ended up in a different one)
Being in New York gave me a somewhat familiar, but uneasy feeling. I had spent so much time there interning the summer before, but it was total reverse culture shock, and it was like everyone around me was in fast forward. I was accustomed to perking up whenever I heard English being spoken, but this time, it was everywhere! I immediately went to Starbucks and was stoked to be somewhere I could be as picky as I wanted and they’d give me just what I asked for. Then, I got a salad WITH SALAD DRESSING. My flight back to Detroit was in one of those crappy 3-seat-wide “airplanes,” so by the time I got home I was exhausted and happy to see my parents.
Five days later, it was back to NYC for the summer, and that brings us to today. Back to being a real college student again.
Blast from the past
I knew I was going to miss Spain, but lately, it has gotten bad. I truely do miss it. I miss speaking Spanish all the time, and I miss being around people who understand my Spanglish. I miss the people, the cafés, the 1-euro wine, the jamón serrano. I can’t seem to stay out past 3am and I almost put my hand up in the air, Spanish-style. to flag down a CATA bus the other day. I even put up with the horrible TV shows on Univisión just so I can pretend that all the channels are like that.
I’m glad I kept my journal and my blog to help me re-live some of those un-photographed moments–the things that don’t necessarity come to memory right away when I’m telling ANOTHER study abroad story. I have a few old posts that are kind of out-dated and un-finished, but I got a kick out of re-reading them:
Wow, Rome is overwhelming. There are just entirely too many things to see. In other places, even Paris, it is pretty easy to schedule in all the big sites so you can check them off the list, but here, I am confused as to all the things that are supposed to be on my list to check off. On top of that, I don’t know enough about ancient history to be able to soak it all in. My best guess is just visiting any location they went to while shooting “When in Rome” or “The Lizzy McGuire Movie.” I am definitely watching one of those when I get home.
I wish I had a Rick Steves’ guide! I don’t feel like my trip is complete without it. I actually went so far as to buy a specific Rome guide book, so I could read more about the sites than is provided in my “Western Europe” guide, but it’s just not the same.
Plus, I am getting really worn out. These have been four jam-packed months, with absolutely no rest the past three weeks or so. The Eternal City is one of those places you plan en entire vacation around, so tacking it onto the last three days of my marathon European adventure is kinda rough.
Oh well, I just have to suck it up for a few more days, because after this I fly back to Valencia, and then go HOME home! I really can’t believe it.
Alright, so I seem to remember a scene in the movie where Hilary Duff makes a wish and throws a penny into the Trevi Fountain right before she meets her Italian popstar boyfriend, so I think I know what’s next on my list.
Well, I just spent a day in beautiful Nice, France, where people sunbathe on beaches made completely of rocks, and now am in Florence, Italy, visiting my friend Krysta from MSU. I saw the statue of David, the Duomo, and ate some fabulous gelato.
Ciao!
Saturday was the beginning of the first real “goodbyes” of the trip. I went to the comida de desperdida, a huge three-course paella lunch with all the students, staff, and profs from school. For me though, it wasn’t actually that sad, just another fun event, but with everyone. We took pictures (NONE of which I am posting because I look like death in every single one…I need to get better), had a few laughs, and left to do our last minute packing and present shopping. That night though, we went out for one last night out in Valencia.
I took the same walk I always take–down my street, take a left, cut behind the old Quart Towers down Calle Caballeros, where everyone is out and about, heading from one bar to the next. It’s a real clash of cultures–first there is a swanky Japanese place I could never afford, the next is an artsy cafe with people spilling out into the sidewalk tables, waiters running around like mad. People are standing in middle square eating Turkish doner kebabs or waiting for their date/friend. Next down the road is the run-down but quirky Flintstones-themed bar with a giant papermache dinosaur head on the wall and signs saying “no smoking joints.”
The end of that street brings me to Plaza de la Virgen, with its beautiful old church and fountain. The plaza, made of marble and reflecting all the street lamps, is the same place where the falleras bring flowers to offer to the Virgin Mary during the Fallas festival, but now, it’s swarming with teenagers on skateboards, hippies selling bracelets, and a man playing an accordian. After cutting through Plaza de la Virgen, it opens up into Plaza de la Reina, home of the cathedral tower and rows of orange trees. From there, I went down one last street to the favorite little hole-in-the-wall bar that you never would have noticed without already knowing where it was.
Taking that walk down Caballeros is so familiar by now that it borders on boring. I’d sometimes think, isn’t there some other route I could take? But Saturday, as I turned those same old streets, it hit me that it would be the last time I’d ever make that stroll. Sure, someday I will come back to Valencia, but I’ll never take “my route” again.
So after re-telling the old favorite stories and realizing that the bar was closing, it was time for the real goodbyes. It was strange to think about leaving these good friends that I might barely ever see again–if I see them at all. But we hugged, waved out of the back of the taxis (it was just like the last episode of the Real World), and that was it.
Leaving my house yesterday for my trip was strange, because I am going to be back for a day to pick up my suitcase and catch my flight back home. So it wasn’t really a goodbye to the family, but it was still the end of my “official” stay there. I had all my stuff put away, handed in my keys, said goodbye to my madre, and was off. It was sad, but lucky for me, only a trial goodbye, because in a week I get to see it one last time. But leaving for real is going to be rough.
Right now, I am in Nice, capital of the French Riviera, ready to soak up some sun before heading to Florence and Rome.
So I passed out in a bar last night.
Well, actually, it was outside the bar. And I’d had nothing to drink but water all day.
This lovely illness I have managed to acquire robs me of my appetite, so I had eaten very little all day. My tapas dinner consisted of two little bite-size bread slices with stuff on them. Then, I went to the Irish pub where we were having our goodbye party. It was very hot inside, and as I was ordering a bottle of water, I started to feel kind of dizzy. So, I got my water and booked out the front door to sit down at one of the outside tables. Next thing I know, all these people are around me going “Katie, Katie!” and I’m lying on the sidewalk like an idiot and someone’s taking my pulse. Great, I thought, this is embarrassing.
This used to happen to me sometimes when I was about 10 or 11, so I wasn’t really worried, but one of the school staff people who were there called the medics. They got there (by that time I was sitting in a chair), and I walked into to the ambulance (as a trained lifeguard, I know that in the US, they would likely not have let me walk after passing out), asked how I was feeling, put a flashlight in my eyes, and asked if I wanted to go to the hospital.
I said, “Do I need to go to the hospital?”
“If you want,” they said.
So I sat there confused trying to figure out if the hospital was at all necessary. I guess it wasn’t, considering I had the choice. In the US, they take you no matter what, and they would certainly have made me go after telling them that my neck/lower back had been sore lately. But, apparently this was no grave matter, so I signed a form, went back to the party, ordered a Coke, and stayed out.
What a night! I told my madre this morning, and she was quite shocked, but I told her I was ok.
Well, in two days starts my post-study abroad travel week! Sorry I haven’t updated anything–I wish I’d had time, because the past week or so has been amazing. But, even though this is study abroad, we still have finals and I have been busy writing papers, researching, meanwhile trying to get over this completely obnoxious illness that I have managed to aquire. Perfect timing, huh?
(SPANISH LESSON: When someone asks you if you are constipada, they are NOT asking if you are constipated. Just “stuffed up.” Thank God I didn’t have to learn this lesson myself, but I know people who have. Que horror.)
Anyway, tonight we have our goodbye party, and tomorrow our goodbye paella lunch. I’ll be updating more after.
Shopping
Camping
Parking
Look (as in “of the season”)
Marketing
Topless
Fan
Show
Sexy
CD
DVD
CEO
Gay
Television
Gym
Celebrity
Bikini
Shorts
If you could read everything in this entry so far, then congratulations! You can read Spanish!
There are tons of English words that are incorporated into the language, and I have learned that all of the above are valid Spanish words. At first, I thought it was a little strange and did a little double-take when Mireia was talking about her marketing class, but she told me that she doesn’t even think about the fact that they aren’t Spanish. It throws you off a little the first time you hear them, but then you just have to remember the rainbow of words we steal from other languages, i.e. guacamole, armada, mosquito.
(Disclaimer: Before you judge me/these words, please keep in mind that I just finished reading In Touch magazine in Spanish and this list is clearly a reflection of that. Actually, wait. That is a perfectly acceptable reason to judge me. Go right ahead.)
This was just off the top of my head, but can anyone think of any more?
There comes a horrible time in every study abroad student’s life when they look at the calendar or recieve their final exam assignment, and they come to the realization that their time abroad is almost over. You hear things like, “Can you believe we only have TWO WEEKS?” and “I feel like we just got here!”
This is what I like to call “pre-nostalgia.” You start thinking of all the things you haven’t done yet, and how you can cram them into the remaining time. Everyday situations like sitting in a bar or walking to school become just that much more rare, and you find yourself trying to just “soak it all in” and take a mental picture that’s a little more complete than the millions you’ve got in your camera.
Whether it’s getting your second-to-last bocadillo ever, remembering that in a few weeks, we will no longer be constantly surrounded by Spanish-speakers, or thinking about returning to a place where we know when things are open and where to buy toothpaste, you realize all the little things that you’re going to miss. What will we do when we get home and no one wants to hear our madre stories? Who will congratulate me when I tell them how I sucessfully used a complicated subjunctive conjugation in conversation today?
It’s not like I haven’t been preparing for it. I told myself from the beginning all the cliché things like, “These four months are going to fly by” and “It will be over before I know it.”
What do you know, I was right.
Well, I got back on Monday from my marathon spring break: 4 days in Amsterdam, 2 days in Brussels, 2-ish days in Paris, and a day and a half in Madrid/Toledo. When I was on the train coming back home to Valencia, I wrote and wrote and wrote and wrote in my journal, trying to catch up on all the great things I did, and I realized that if I started blogging about everything, I would never finish, and if I did, it would be incredibly long. I mean, I think I wrote six pages about Paris itself. Plus, this blog is called “Aventuras en España,” not “Aventuras While Touring Around Random Countries With My Face Either Behind My Guidebook or My Camera as I Take Pictures of Cathedrals With Every Other Tourist.”
So, in order to be concise, I will go to the opposite extreme. Haikus. I’ll just sum it all up.
1. Amsterdam
Lots of Dutch hipsters
Hookers wave from Red Light doors
Saw some tulips too
2. Brussels
Waffles, chocolate, beer
Peeing statue does exist
What a quirky place
3. Paris
Whirlwind two-day trip
Saw where TomKat got engaged!
Can I please learn French?
4. Toledo (Via Madrid)
Asian tour hot-spot
“Best cathedral in Europe”
Thought I saw Rick Steves
This trip was exhausting. It was exciting to be outside of Spain and to be gone for more than three days, but I was tired of cheap hostel beds and community showers and happy to be home in my newly-painted Spanish house, where I sat down with the fam to eat dinner in front of the TV while we watched a dubbed Barbara Streisand movie, “The Mirror Has Two Faces.” (P.S. This keeps happening–we keep watching movies in Spanish that I have never seen in English, and then I have no idea what classic movie I just watched until I go IMDB-search it, though will likely never watch it in its original version.)
But then…I was reading “20 Minutos” and found out some news that did not make me very happy…
There were celebrities in Valenica, and I MISSED IT.
Demi and Ashton! Chloe Sevigny! All at the event that Prada was throwing at the Mercado Central, which they transformed into a chic party spot for the night. It is a measly 10 minute walk from my house and I pass by every single day. I’ve heard rumors Brangelina was in town, but I guess they didn’t make it to the event.
Why would they be here, you ask? Because America’s Cup is upon us. America’s Cup is this huge, flashy regatta, and while I don’t really know anything about sailing, I do know that it is a really big deal. It hasn’t been held in a non-English-speaking country since the 1800’s, and it is also big competition to see who gets to host the event. And this year, it is Valencia. The city has put a ton of money into developing the port, with buildings, restaurants, coffee shops, bars, team retail shops for every competing country, as well as temporary stores by some of the major sponsors, Louis Vuitton and Prada. I visited, and it was pretty much the chicest place I have ever been. Everything is sleek, modern, and overpriced. Slow European electronic music plays on the loudspeakers and makes you feel like you’re on a seaside catwalk. T-shirts cost about 40 Euro. I found myself seriously considering purchasing a 200-Euro sailing jacket, and I don’t even like sailing. I’m telling you, this place just made me want to spend money. It was great.
Anyway, some of the earlier races have started in competition for the Louis Vuitton Cup, so maybe some more celebs will make their way over.
Angelina, if you are reading this, I will give your children free Spanish lessons!
(Demi and Ashton photo from www.people.com)