This past Friday/Saturday, my program took an overnight trip to Salamanca, home of the oldest university in Spain. (Naturally, I bought a souvenir T-shirt.) I'm sure it has lots of other significance, but my tour guide only really projected to the 4 people standing closest to him (and it was creepy to have him give a tour only directly to you when you did stand up front), so I'm afraid some of the culture and history was lost. Nevertheless.
We arrived on Friday after a nearly 3 hour bus ride and checked into our very nice hotel. After that we did lots of tours around Salamanca, strolling around the historic district. We first visited a large cathedral, which was amazingly vaulted and tall. Although I've seen a lot of cathedrals in Europe, this one seemed especially ornate, with lots of the molding painted in bright colors. And it was so tall! We went up into the balconies and it still seemed to be really high-ceilinged even though we were already about 3 stories up. We also toured around the edges looking at the artwork adoring each of the small capillas, or chapels. Some of them were very strange, with portraits of a crucified Jesus with his feet resting almost on the ground, which was covered in bones and skulls. We then went up into the Jeronimo Tower, which gave a beautiful view of the entire city. (I forgot my camera, but hopefully I'll be able to steal some pictures from my friend.) It was so cool to be up on the rooftops (although I found that I really, really, truly hate stone spiral staircases). The moldings on the outside of the cathedral were also really interesting. Apparently they were renovated several years ago, and there is now a tiny astronaut hidden among the rest of the more traditional molding. Another interesting site was a building completely covered in conch shell moldings. There is also a very large obsession with frogs, due to the fact that one is hidden in the facade of another important building. (They're very in to hiding random objects in fine art, it seems). Last we visited Casa Lis, a museum filled with late 19th-20th century objects - art nouveau and art deco collected by a native Salamancan patron, with a passion it seems, for figurines. The museum also included an expansive collection of wide-eyed porcelain dolls. (Creepy).
After the touring we were given some free time. I went out to lunch with several friends, followed by the largest Ben & Jerry's sundaes I've ever seen. To kill time between the tour end (6p) and dinner at 9:15, we all went back to the hotel to rest. (It was really cold to be walking around the streets once the sun went down). It was really nice to be able to all gather in one place since when we leave school we either have to go to a specific place in order to socialize, or just go home, which is very isolating. It was nice to not be out at a cafe and just have free time with friends. And laugh. A lot.
We had a delicious dinner at the hotel followed by a tasting of the Salamancan night life. Although not quite the craziness of Madrid, we still had lots of fun. We ended up meeting up with some French and Italian girls who were studying abroad in Salamanca and they showed us all the best bars (in their opinion). We went to a crowded local bar where I sampled the Spanish drink "Agua de Valencia", which is a combination of sparkling wine, vodka, and orange Fanta. (I found out the ingredients post-consumption, which I think was a good thing considering that sounds like the most unappetizing cocktail ever. But it was really good!) We then went to a bar that serves only chupitas (shots), most of which have wild names. My favorite was one with honey and rum.
Saturday, we toured the historic part of the University, although I must say I got bored of looking at room after room of classrooms that look like chapels. Some of them had cool murals on the ceilings though. We had more time to explore, and my group of friends decided to go for Chinese food (yes, I know, authentic of us). The food, however, was not very authentic, although the women running it were actually Chinese...? We arrived home, extremely, tired on Saturday, and I stayed in the rest of the weekend because I was getting a cold. (And then we happened to learn words relating to colds/sickness in Spanish on Monday!) But I'm better now, and very psyched for my upcoming trip to Strasbourg to visit Anna. (And very relieved that the Lufthansa strike didn't seem to affect my flight plans!).
Also... I'm currently uploading pictures, so they should finally finally be up very soon.
Food I'm currently craving: tabouleh
... do they eat tabouleh in Morocco??
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
I'm ready for bed...
Wednesdays. The bane of my existence. This isn't so much due to what I'm doing, but rather to the chaos and stress that ensues. As usual, the day starts at 7am (which is basically ungodly, because the sun still refuses to rise much before I walk out the door), and I'm out of the apartment by 8am. This is mostly due to my roommate's tendency to be on the early side of punctual (my preference is on-the-dot punctuality), but it works. History is... history, 80 minutes of dates. Today we had "discussion". I said something that I guess was blatantly wrong (I guess my Spanish comprehension of articles isn't so good, so I didn't even get marked for participation. ¡Que desgracia!) Then followed my 3 hour Almodóvar film class.
Today was the first day that we actually watched a movie: "Entre Tiniebles". (In English it's called "Dark Habits"). It was the second of Almodóvar's films, in 1983. Due to sound difficulties in the large auditorium, we were rerouted to a class room with a small television on which to watch it. So although the professor put on Spanish subtitles, it was still difficult to read because it was both tiny, and scrolled quickly. However, I'm pretty sure that language barriers aside, I still would be left extremely confused. This is what I got out of it: A woman named Yolanda is a whore/drug addict living with her boyfriend, who then dies of an overdose in the first scenes. Yolanda, escaping the police, who are looking for her because of drug trafficking, goes to a convent. The convent has some crazy nuns, two of whom do cocaine/heroin. They also have a tiger in the garden. I'm pretty sure some of them are also lesbians and that the Mother Superior is in love with Yolanda. Also, all the Sisters have ridiculous names in Spanish that translate to Sister Manure, Sister Viper, Sister Dirty Street Rat, and Sister "Lost". [Correction: Wikipedia (a highly reputable source) has informed me that Yolanda is actually a "cabaret dancer", but somehow I've managed to hit all the major points. I don't know how that's possible but I guess half the dialogue doesn't really matter after all?]
After the movie we had a "15 minute" break before discussion. However the break was more like 25 minutes, as usual, because the Spanish aren't really all for punctuality, and our professor always gets coffee or food. Today he got an Amstel and a sandwich... even though it's completely normal for Spaniards to have a copa at lunch, it struck us as very bizarre, because a professor would never ever drink a beer straight before teaching a seminar. (At least, not openly).
Unfortunately though, he let us out 10+ minutes late. And I have a class at the Prado Museum (at least a 30 minute metro and 10 minutes of walking), that is supposed to meet 5 minutes before class officially starts, at 3:55. So even though we left straight away, we were running extremely late. (Okay, so the three of us sort of spaced out and didn't pick the most direct route, but I'm pretty sure that the other way wouldn't have saved us more than ten minutes, which wouldn't really help.) So we frantically call/text everyone we can think of in our class, trying to alert them. I was late last time as well and had to pay 8€ to get in... definitely don't want to repeat that. Meanwhile we have to change stops at the point at which we couldn't possibly be further underground. We try and sprint up the escalators, but they're all the extremely tall ones, and oh yeah, there are 5 of them. In a row. It was like we were trying to crawl out of the Earth's core or something. Once back (still underground) in mobile range, we receive a text message back: "Your tickets are under the trash can, next to the police car". Sounding completely absurd, we finally arrive late at the Prado and start frantically looking at trash cans, most of which look very sturdily bolted to the ground. Also the police car has moved. Finally one of my friends spots some tickets a few feet away from a trash can. [Just to be clear on the mental image: three 20-year-old Americans running, completely out of breath, looking around frantically and diving for 3 white tickets just blowing around on the ground, and then bolting towards the door]. We made it though! And once we talked to our professor, she didn't even seem mad. Maybe it was because we looked so pathetic and red-faced and exhausted.
After looking at El Greco and Velázquez paintings for 80 minutes, I finally finally got to take a braek. Although home sounded good and I was planning on going for a run, I agreed to go with my friend to meet some of his Tufts friends (who are studying in a nearby town) at a cafe near the museum. (And anyway, who needs a run after sprinting up escalators and down city streets looking like a moron? In heeled boots, too!) It was nice to try out a new cafe and wander into a different section of Madrid, and they also knew of a place to get cheap and delicious strawberries! (I still can't get over how cheap the produce can be here... an avocado for the equivalent of 2USD? And ripe? How can it be?!) And after a VERY long day, I returned home 12 and a half hours later... and had a dinner of chicken in a light onion-y gravy sauce (delicious) and a soup of rice and chicken broth (eh), and of course, bread.
Now to book some hostels for my upcoming trips. I am going to be traveling the next 8 weekends straight. Dios mio.
Today was the first day that we actually watched a movie: "Entre Tiniebles". (In English it's called "Dark Habits"). It was the second of Almodóvar's films, in 1983. Due to sound difficulties in the large auditorium, we were rerouted to a class room with a small television on which to watch it. So although the professor put on Spanish subtitles, it was still difficult to read because it was both tiny, and scrolled quickly. However, I'm pretty sure that language barriers aside, I still would be left extremely confused. This is what I got out of it: A woman named Yolanda is a whore/drug addict living with her boyfriend, who then dies of an overdose in the first scenes. Yolanda, escaping the police, who are looking for her because of drug trafficking, goes to a convent. The convent has some crazy nuns, two of whom do cocaine/heroin. They also have a tiger in the garden. I'm pretty sure some of them are also lesbians and that the Mother Superior is in love with Yolanda. Also, all the Sisters have ridiculous names in Spanish that translate to Sister Manure, Sister Viper, Sister Dirty Street Rat, and Sister "Lost". [Correction: Wikipedia (a highly reputable source) has informed me that Yolanda is actually a "cabaret dancer", but somehow I've managed to hit all the major points. I don't know how that's possible but I guess half the dialogue doesn't really matter after all?]
After the movie we had a "15 minute" break before discussion. However the break was more like 25 minutes, as usual, because the Spanish aren't really all for punctuality, and our professor always gets coffee or food. Today he got an Amstel and a sandwich... even though it's completely normal for Spaniards to have a copa at lunch, it struck us as very bizarre, because a professor would never ever drink a beer straight before teaching a seminar. (At least, not openly).
Unfortunately though, he let us out 10+ minutes late. And I have a class at the Prado Museum (at least a 30 minute metro and 10 minutes of walking), that is supposed to meet 5 minutes before class officially starts, at 3:55. So even though we left straight away, we were running extremely late. (Okay, so the three of us sort of spaced out and didn't pick the most direct route, but I'm pretty sure that the other way wouldn't have saved us more than ten minutes, which wouldn't really help.) So we frantically call/text everyone we can think of in our class, trying to alert them. I was late last time as well and had to pay 8€ to get in... definitely don't want to repeat that. Meanwhile we have to change stops at the point at which we couldn't possibly be further underground. We try and sprint up the escalators, but they're all the extremely tall ones, and oh yeah, there are 5 of them. In a row. It was like we were trying to crawl out of the Earth's core or something. Once back (still underground) in mobile range, we receive a text message back: "Your tickets are under the trash can, next to the police car". Sounding completely absurd, we finally arrive late at the Prado and start frantically looking at trash cans, most of which look very sturdily bolted to the ground. Also the police car has moved. Finally one of my friends spots some tickets a few feet away from a trash can. [Just to be clear on the mental image: three 20-year-old Americans running, completely out of breath, looking around frantically and diving for 3 white tickets just blowing around on the ground, and then bolting towards the door]. We made it though! And once we talked to our professor, she didn't even seem mad. Maybe it was because we looked so pathetic and red-faced and exhausted.
After looking at El Greco and Velázquez paintings for 80 minutes, I finally finally got to take a braek. Although home sounded good and I was planning on going for a run, I agreed to go with my friend to meet some of his Tufts friends (who are studying in a nearby town) at a cafe near the museum. (And anyway, who needs a run after sprinting up escalators and down city streets looking like a moron? In heeled boots, too!) It was nice to try out a new cafe and wander into a different section of Madrid, and they also knew of a place to get cheap and delicious strawberries! (I still can't get over how cheap the produce can be here... an avocado for the equivalent of 2USD? And ripe? How can it be?!) And after a VERY long day, I returned home 12 and a half hours later... and had a dinner of chicken in a light onion-y gravy sauce (delicious) and a soup of rice and chicken broth (eh), and of course, bread.
Now to book some hostels for my upcoming trips. I am going to be traveling the next 8 weekends straight. Dios mio.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
A Weekend of Freedom
With the admonition to not use the gas and 32€ each as a food stipend, my señora left me and my roommate and I to our own devices on Thursday evening. With a quick exchanged glance, it was clear that this one and only rule was to be quickly ignored. Having had enough "typical" central Spanish food, we were ready for pasta and vegetables, vegetables, vegetables. Maybe some more vegetables possibly, if we could work them in. Here it seems that vegetables are best when cooked so far as to lack nutritional content and the product bears no resemblance to its plant origin. (Think purees and overcooked mixed veggies in various sauces.) So naturally salad was number one priority on our menu.
Feeling extremely local &/or independent, we perused the local shops for vegetables, pasta, and of course, large chocolate bars. The perfect to complement to any fresh, delicious meal.
The stoves here are typical European stoves, meaning you have to start the gas and then light it with a match. Of course the knob has no indicator as to what setting you should hold it for lighting, as opposed to "high", the only indicator being the sound of the gas escaping. So I hedged my bets and lit the match, figuring at worst I'd have it all the way up and become disfigured. Couldn't be that bad. It certainly did woosh and burst into large blue flames, but it was much more controllable than the finicky stoves we take camping that actually might combust upon lighting. And it was quite exciting to be cooking our own food, however simple.
After a delicious meal we went out to our favorite local frat - I mean bar. With as much poor quality beer as one can drink for 5€, loud 90s pop, and a high quantity of bodies per unit space, t could easily be confused for a local college fraternity. We met some other Americans (Dartmouth boys visiting from Barcelona), but all in all it was a quiet night.
Friday, we continued to embrace our very American culture. Since we didn't have to speak Spanish for the entire weekend, it also seemed obvious that we shouldn't partake in the culture.
Thus the decision to go to the Hard Rock Cafe for dinner that night. I was equal parts embarrassed and tempted by this restaurant choice. Obviously, it didn't seem right to be going to such a clearly American restaurant when I should be spending my remaining three months making the Spanish culture my own... but the temptation of a real, well-cooked hamburger won out. Come on, chipotle pepper salsa and guacamole on a burger? As if I could resist that. (Also, it was nice to have some meat that didn't look exactly like the animal it had just come from.)
On Saturday night, again had dinner at home. This time it wasn't nearly impressive, or healthful for that matter. We got dinner from a cerveceria called 101 Montaditos, which serves mini bocodillos (sandwiches) with about every possible filling you can think of: ham and cheese, ham and tomato, Spanish tortilla, cream cheese and salmon, brie and onion... the list goes on - 1o1 in total - some more normal and some seemingly bizarre, but all delicious as far as I've tried. Okay, so like 10% of the menu. This restaurant is also conveniently located on the bottom floor of the building next door. This meal we complemented with our exciting find of tortilla chips and salsa. Okay, so this might sound so exciting, but considering it took us 3 different major supermarkets to find these items, it really was. I was so shocked when I saw a whole row of different types of tortilla ships on a shelf. [And anyway, you try asking for chips and salsa in Spain. "What, you want sauce and potato chips? What the hell are you eating??"]. Thus our delicious dinner of mixed Hispanic foods.
So we're sitting eating dinner, when suddenly we hear the click of a door opening followed by the doorbell. I'm almost sure that these two noises are supposed to come in the opposite order, as they tend to in the U.S., and both of us just sort of sat there, frozen. "¿Hola?" Obviously it wasn't our señora, who had called earlier to check up on us and tell us she'd be home in the evening, nor was it the landlady who occasionally comes by, her voice distinctively tinged with a Russian accent. So we go into the kitchen, where we find the across the hall neighbor, just coming to "check on us" and make sure we were okay, and didn't need anything, and weren't scared. [Well, no, I wasn't, but now that you just barged in without announcing yourself I might be]. Luckily that seemed to be all she wanted to say, and showed herself to the door. (Before she could realize we were doing something verboten, say, like having more than one light on in the apartment... oops).
We continued the night by going out to Sol, the heart of tapas bars and night clubs. It was even more packed than usual, and even more bizarre-looking than usual, because it's carnaval. Half the people out were dressed in costume. Having no real agenda for the night out, we let ourselves be led by the local promoters, following anyone who promised entrada gratis or a free drink. (The combination of the two being the best). The first place we go turns out to be extremely weird, but we got free pear-flavored drinks out of it. The second had free entry, but we really only used it for the bathroom. It was then that we decided to join a local pub crawl. It was an event based in one of the local hostels and a fellow IES student had a friend visiting and doing this "tour", so we joined on. Being that the leader of the tour was both high and drunk by the time we showed up, we got to reap all the benefits (a free drink at each bar/club we attended) without paying the tour fee. We rounded out the night with churros y purras con chocolate before getting a cab back at 5am.
Needless to say, most of today has been about sleep. Oh, and some homework. [Turns out, if you already get bored reading 40 pages for class in English, Spanish doesn't make it much better.]
Random question: Why can milk be stored on shelves, unrefrigerated until opening here? It seems highly questionable.
Food I'm craving: Actually none. Must be all the salads I finally got to eat over the weekend.
Feeling extremely local &/or independent, we perused the local shops for vegetables, pasta, and of course, large chocolate bars. The perfect to complement to any fresh, delicious meal.
The stoves here are typical European stoves, meaning you have to start the gas and then light it with a match. Of course the knob has no indicator as to what setting you should hold it for lighting, as opposed to "high", the only indicator being the sound of the gas escaping. So I hedged my bets and lit the match, figuring at worst I'd have it all the way up and become disfigured. Couldn't be that bad. It certainly did woosh and burst into large blue flames, but it was much more controllable than the finicky stoves we take camping that actually might combust upon lighting. And it was quite exciting to be cooking our own food, however simple.
After a delicious meal we went out to our favorite local frat - I mean bar. With as much poor quality beer as one can drink for 5€, loud 90s pop, and a high quantity of bodies per unit space, t could easily be confused for a local college fraternity. We met some other Americans (Dartmouth boys visiting from Barcelona), but all in all it was a quiet night.
Friday, we continued to embrace our very American culture. Since we didn't have to speak Spanish for the entire weekend, it also seemed obvious that we shouldn't partake in the culture.
Thus the decision to go to the Hard Rock Cafe for dinner that night. I was equal parts embarrassed and tempted by this restaurant choice. Obviously, it didn't seem right to be going to such a clearly American restaurant when I should be spending my remaining three months making the Spanish culture my own... but the temptation of a real, well-cooked hamburger won out. Come on, chipotle pepper salsa and guacamole on a burger? As if I could resist that. (Also, it was nice to have some meat that didn't look exactly like the animal it had just come from.)
On Saturday night, again had dinner at home. This time it wasn't nearly impressive, or healthful for that matter. We got dinner from a cerveceria called 101 Montaditos, which serves mini bocodillos (sandwiches) with about every possible filling you can think of: ham and cheese, ham and tomato, Spanish tortilla, cream cheese and salmon, brie and onion... the list goes on - 1o1 in total - some more normal and some seemingly bizarre, but all delicious as far as I've tried. Okay, so like 10% of the menu. This restaurant is also conveniently located on the bottom floor of the building next door. This meal we complemented with our exciting find of tortilla chips and salsa. Okay, so this might sound so exciting, but considering it took us 3 different major supermarkets to find these items, it really was. I was so shocked when I saw a whole row of different types of tortilla ships on a shelf. [And anyway, you try asking for chips and salsa in Spain. "What, you want sauce and potato chips? What the hell are you eating??"]. Thus our delicious dinner of mixed Hispanic foods.
So we're sitting eating dinner, when suddenly we hear the click of a door opening followed by the doorbell. I'm almost sure that these two noises are supposed to come in the opposite order, as they tend to in the U.S., and both of us just sort of sat there, frozen. "¿Hola?" Obviously it wasn't our señora, who had called earlier to check up on us and tell us she'd be home in the evening, nor was it the landlady who occasionally comes by, her voice distinctively tinged with a Russian accent. So we go into the kitchen, where we find the across the hall neighbor, just coming to "check on us" and make sure we were okay, and didn't need anything, and weren't scared. [Well, no, I wasn't, but now that you just barged in without announcing yourself I might be]. Luckily that seemed to be all she wanted to say, and showed herself to the door. (Before she could realize we were doing something verboten, say, like having more than one light on in the apartment... oops).
We continued the night by going out to Sol, the heart of tapas bars and night clubs. It was even more packed than usual, and even more bizarre-looking than usual, because it's carnaval. Half the people out were dressed in costume. Having no real agenda for the night out, we let ourselves be led by the local promoters, following anyone who promised entrada gratis or a free drink. (The combination of the two being the best). The first place we go turns out to be extremely weird, but we got free pear-flavored drinks out of it. The second had free entry, but we really only used it for the bathroom. It was then that we decided to join a local pub crawl. It was an event based in one of the local hostels and a fellow IES student had a friend visiting and doing this "tour", so we joined on. Being that the leader of the tour was both high and drunk by the time we showed up, we got to reap all the benefits (a free drink at each bar/club we attended) without paying the tour fee. We rounded out the night with churros y purras con chocolate before getting a cab back at 5am.
Needless to say, most of today has been about sleep. Oh, and some homework. [Turns out, if you already get bored reading 40 pages for class in English, Spanish doesn't make it much better.]
Random question: Why can milk be stored on shelves, unrefrigerated until opening here? It seems highly questionable.
Food I'm craving: Actually none. Must be all the salads I finally got to eat over the weekend.
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Paris: City of Lights
So I STILL haven't figured out how to load pictures in a faster manner than just one slow jpeg at a time... but I promise that will be my homework for the weekend!
Last weekend I took a little 'voyage' to Paris. I left on Thursday afternoon, giving myself plenty of time to get on the metro, make all my connections, and wait in the long security lines. I left my apartment with 2h45m before my flight was set to depart. I had a feeling I was leaving too early, and I was right. Less than an hour and a half after setting foot outside my building, I was sitting in the terminal, waiting. This included an extremely slow meander through the airport after running into some fellow IES students who were headed out to Lisbon for the weekend. Security, compared to the ridiculousness that generally ensues at Newark Liberty, was practically non-existent. (Bonuses: of spending WAYYY too much time in the terminal: a. I bought chips in a vending machine and someone had left a packet of Oreos just sitting there. Two for one! and b. I figured out the Easy Jet boarding system [read: chaos] before I actually had to line up myself.)
Easy Jet, as it happened, was "easy" enough for me, but I can easily (sorry, that's definitely a pun. I hate puns..) see how it would be awful. I ended up getting to the terminal before the 5p Lisbon flight had even begun boarding. I have no idea how they get two flights, 1 hour apart, out of the same terminal with any efficiency, but it happened. Basically they have you just line up and you're on a first-come first-serve basis, with those in the front of the line choosing their seats first. They also didn't announce the line, people just sort of all noticed a line forming at the same time, and stood to join. Highly efficient. However, the flight itself was efficient and landed just when it was supposed to.
It was SO strange to see the lights of the Eiffel Tower only an hour and a half after boarding the flight, as opposed to after a grueling, uncomfortable red-eye. Now for the navigating to begin. I had with me the address of the apartment that I was staying (Kristen's), the train I needed to take, and the metro stop I needed to connect with. But when I followed the train station signs (for 15 minutes), I had no idea where to actually buy my tickets. Oh no! The horror of actually conversing with a real, live human! Luckily, my French kicked in easily and it was very simple to converse with the information agent and figure out where the tickets were sold. (Although I had a strong inclination to thank him with "gracias" and ended up going "gra...merci". Maybe he didn't notice. The woman at the ticket booth also spoke with me easily, and even though I had started the conversation in English, I switched to French at one point and she followed suit. I wasn't expecting this; most of my exchanges with the French previously resulted in them switching to English with any hint of a non-native accent. There's definitely a pervasive sense of English in Paris that isn't found in Madrid. Nevertheless, most of the time I was frustrated by the switch to English any time a shop keeper heard Kristen and I conversing in English. Most frustrating was the ticket agent at the airport on my trip home, who spoke to me in rudimentary English the minute she saw my American passport and acting like it was I who was the idiot. I wanted to quip at her that I understood French perfectly well, but it didn't really seem like that would make her any less rude.
Anyway, I navigated the French metro system and found my way to the stop closest to Kristen. (Using the metro in Paris really made me appreciated Madrid! The French metro is extremely smelly and the metro maps/connections are so unclear compared to Madrid. I just blindly followed Kristen's directions since the metro map I had been given was painfully unclear.) We walked around her arrondisement (neighborhood) and ended up heading back to her place to make a delicious pasta. I was SO excited to cook, since I'm not allowed to in my homestay.
Friday we wandered around allllll day, saw Notre Dame and the Centre Pompidous, and went to get what is supposedly the best ice cream in the world. It was pretty good, even if the servings were the opposite of generous. That night I met up with Anna, also visiting a friend in Paris, and a combined group of us all went out to a delicious dinner. It was kind of expensive, but well worth it for the amazing food. I also, out of character, was the only person to order a dessert: peche melba, a ice cream, peach sections, raspberry sauce, whipped cream conconction with toasted almonds and deliciousness. That night we went out to a French club called L'Arc.
Saturday we went to the Museum of Modern Art in Paris, and did more walking, and went to Montmartre to see the chapel Sacre Coeur and eat delicious crepes (jambon et fromage) and french fries and café au lait. (It was a scrumptious combination, if you were wondering).
....And then we went out for Sushi for dinner.
The Colgate french study group in Dijon was in Paris for the weekend, so we got to see Jane!!! That night we went out to a bar near Kristen's apartment with Jane and lots of other people from their program. Sunday morning we forced ourselves out of bed at a reasonable hour to go to a local open-air market. Everything there was SO SO fresh - meats, vegetables, breads, fruits, cheeses, fish! Kristen did some of her regular grocery shopping and we also got lots of delicious veggies and bread and cheese for a late lunch before I had to leave. I also found a wallet! (Which I'd been looking for ever since I arrived in Europe!)
Definitely a very exciting weekend... I hope the rest can compare!!
[Food I'm craving: scrambled eggs]
Last weekend I took a little 'voyage' to Paris. I left on Thursday afternoon, giving myself plenty of time to get on the metro, make all my connections, and wait in the long security lines. I left my apartment with 2h45m before my flight was set to depart. I had a feeling I was leaving too early, and I was right. Less than an hour and a half after setting foot outside my building, I was sitting in the terminal, waiting. This included an extremely slow meander through the airport after running into some fellow IES students who were headed out to Lisbon for the weekend. Security, compared to the ridiculousness that generally ensues at Newark Liberty, was practically non-existent. (Bonuses: of spending WAYYY too much time in the terminal: a. I bought chips in a vending machine and someone had left a packet of Oreos just sitting there. Two for one! and b. I figured out the Easy Jet boarding system [read: chaos] before I actually had to line up myself.)
Easy Jet, as it happened, was "easy" enough for me, but I can easily (sorry, that's definitely a pun. I hate puns..) see how it would be awful. I ended up getting to the terminal before the 5p Lisbon flight had even begun boarding. I have no idea how they get two flights, 1 hour apart, out of the same terminal with any efficiency, but it happened. Basically they have you just line up and you're on a first-come first-serve basis, with those in the front of the line choosing their seats first. They also didn't announce the line, people just sort of all noticed a line forming at the same time, and stood to join. Highly efficient. However, the flight itself was efficient and landed just when it was supposed to.
It was SO strange to see the lights of the Eiffel Tower only an hour and a half after boarding the flight, as opposed to after a grueling, uncomfortable red-eye. Now for the navigating to begin. I had with me the address of the apartment that I was staying (Kristen's), the train I needed to take, and the metro stop I needed to connect with. But when I followed the train station signs (for 15 minutes), I had no idea where to actually buy my tickets. Oh no! The horror of actually conversing with a real, live human! Luckily, my French kicked in easily and it was very simple to converse with the information agent and figure out where the tickets were sold. (Although I had a strong inclination to thank him with "gracias" and ended up going "gra...merci". Maybe he didn't notice. The woman at the ticket booth also spoke with me easily, and even though I had started the conversation in English, I switched to French at one point and she followed suit. I wasn't expecting this; most of my exchanges with the French previously resulted in them switching to English with any hint of a non-native accent. There's definitely a pervasive sense of English in Paris that isn't found in Madrid. Nevertheless, most of the time I was frustrated by the switch to English any time a shop keeper heard Kristen and I conversing in English. Most frustrating was the ticket agent at the airport on my trip home, who spoke to me in rudimentary English the minute she saw my American passport and acting like it was I who was the idiot. I wanted to quip at her that I understood French perfectly well, but it didn't really seem like that would make her any less rude.
Anyway, I navigated the French metro system and found my way to the stop closest to Kristen. (Using the metro in Paris really made me appreciated Madrid! The French metro is extremely smelly and the metro maps/connections are so unclear compared to Madrid. I just blindly followed Kristen's directions since the metro map I had been given was painfully unclear.) We walked around her arrondisement (neighborhood) and ended up heading back to her place to make a delicious pasta. I was SO excited to cook, since I'm not allowed to in my homestay.
Friday we wandered around allllll day, saw Notre Dame and the Centre Pompidous, and went to get what is supposedly the best ice cream in the world. It was pretty good, even if the servings were the opposite of generous. That night I met up with Anna, also visiting a friend in Paris, and a combined group of us all went out to a delicious dinner. It was kind of expensive, but well worth it for the amazing food. I also, out of character, was the only person to order a dessert: peche melba, a ice cream, peach sections, raspberry sauce, whipped cream conconction with toasted almonds and deliciousness. That night we went out to a French club called L'Arc.
Saturday we went to the Museum of Modern Art in Paris, and did more walking, and went to Montmartre to see the chapel Sacre Coeur and eat delicious crepes (jambon et fromage) and french fries and café au lait. (It was a scrumptious combination, if you were wondering).
....And then we went out for Sushi for dinner.
The Colgate french study group in Dijon was in Paris for the weekend, so we got to see Jane!!! That night we went out to a bar near Kristen's apartment with Jane and lots of other people from their program. Sunday morning we forced ourselves out of bed at a reasonable hour to go to a local open-air market. Everything there was SO SO fresh - meats, vegetables, breads, fruits, cheeses, fish! Kristen did some of her regular grocery shopping and we also got lots of delicious veggies and bread and cheese for a late lunch before I had to leave. I also found a wallet! (Which I'd been looking for ever since I arrived in Europe!)
Definitely a very exciting weekend... I hope the rest can compare!!
[Food I'm craving: scrambled eggs]
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Vague Ruminations
Some firsts:
First day I saw a Spanish lady wearing Uggs. I was shocked.
I saw my first seeing eye dog. He was on the metro, and he was lying down in the middle of a very crowded metro car. I wonder if he gets stepped on a lot that way.
Speaking of the metro, and its crowded-ness factor: I'm really surprised I don't hate it. Usually when there are crowds and traffic jams and people walking every which way (okay, I know I walk into people sometimes, but this is different), I usually proceed to announce that I "hate people". But somehow here it's different, maybe because it's somewhat to be expected. Nothing says "good morning" like being pressed up against someone a little too close.
Also, the metro is PDA central. On the platform, benches, in the train cars themselves. I'm all for a little affection but yesterday after spending 5 stops with an older couple making out (lots of noisy sound effects included), I was ready to applaud when they parted ways.
Riding the metro has also caused me to start giving people a once-over from the bottom up. Even though Spaniards seem to be more okay with making eye contact in the metro than New Yorkers, I find myself starting at the shoes and looking up, whereas in the states I never really notice past the shirt. (Maybe also because people wear more interesting shoes here, and I try and guess Americans by their footwear. It doesn't usually work. Except for Uggs.
Another difference between New Yorkers and Madrileños. Here, no one ever really seems to be in a hurry. Yes, sometimes it's extremely crowded when I get off the metro and people are definitely pushing and moving, but it's not really urgent. Drives me nuts when I'm actually going to be late! Also, everyone reads on the metro. I have a hard enough time learning to keep my balance without holding on to a pole... I guess that will be a goal for the semester.
Another thing that I've had to get used to here: the sunset. Even though I'm basically on the same latitude line as Princeton, the sun sets here a lot closer to 7:30 or 8pm. But in the morning, when I have to wake up at 7am, it's pitch dark, with the sun just starting to come up around 8 when I leave for school. Luckily when I emerge from the metro 35 minutes later it's a bright sunny day.
Today I was also informed I wash my hair too much by my señora. I didn't even have a reply for that except, "um, okay". Or rather "vale", as they say in España.
Foods I'm craving: frosted mini wheats
First day I saw a Spanish lady wearing Uggs. I was shocked.
I saw my first seeing eye dog. He was on the metro, and he was lying down in the middle of a very crowded metro car. I wonder if he gets stepped on a lot that way.
Speaking of the metro, and its crowded-ness factor: I'm really surprised I don't hate it. Usually when there are crowds and traffic jams and people walking every which way (okay, I know I walk into people sometimes, but this is different), I usually proceed to announce that I "hate people". But somehow here it's different, maybe because it's somewhat to be expected. Nothing says "good morning" like being pressed up against someone a little too close.
Also, the metro is PDA central. On the platform, benches, in the train cars themselves. I'm all for a little affection but yesterday after spending 5 stops with an older couple making out (lots of noisy sound effects included), I was ready to applaud when they parted ways.
Riding the metro has also caused me to start giving people a once-over from the bottom up. Even though Spaniards seem to be more okay with making eye contact in the metro than New Yorkers, I find myself starting at the shoes and looking up, whereas in the states I never really notice past the shirt. (Maybe also because people wear more interesting shoes here, and I try and guess Americans by their footwear. It doesn't usually work. Except for Uggs.
Another difference between New Yorkers and Madrileños. Here, no one ever really seems to be in a hurry. Yes, sometimes it's extremely crowded when I get off the metro and people are definitely pushing and moving, but it's not really urgent. Drives me nuts when I'm actually going to be late! Also, everyone reads on the metro. I have a hard enough time learning to keep my balance without holding on to a pole... I guess that will be a goal for the semester.
Another thing that I've had to get used to here: the sunset. Even though I'm basically on the same latitude line as Princeton, the sun sets here a lot closer to 7:30 or 8pm. But in the morning, when I have to wake up at 7am, it's pitch dark, with the sun just starting to come up around 8 when I leave for school. Luckily when I emerge from the metro 35 minutes later it's a bright sunny day.
Today I was also informed I wash my hair too much by my señora. I didn't even have a reply for that except, "um, okay". Or rather "vale", as they say in España.
Foods I'm craving: frosted mini wheats
Monday, February 1, 2010
Reading and Writing and 'Rithmetic
Today was my first day of classes! As per usual, I awoke at 7 in order to leave the apartment at 8 for my ridiculous commute. (And here I thought my ten-minute sprint to class last semester was a trek).
My daily commute to school is something like this:
Leave the apartment and walk 3 short blocks to the metro. [I like to pretend this part takes 5 minutes, but by the time I call the elevator, go downstairs, enter the metro and actually make it onto the platform, it’s more like ten.] Then I go two stops, and transfer to a different line. This one’s always crowded and so here’s where my mastery of climbing huge amounts of stairs comes in handy since the escalator is just a giant mess. It takes about 5 minutes to switch/ however long it takes for the metro to arrive. Then it’s 7 stops [this is about 15 minutes] to the closest stop to school, followed by a 10-minute walk. It’s quite the morning.
Anyway, classes. I had three today – Art History, Contemporary Spanish History, and Spanish. Although Spanish seems kind of redundant given the fact that my whole day is conducted in Spanish. Nevertheless that professor seems cool and promises us that we’ll be bilingual and have the ability to speak completely grammatically correctly by the end of the semester. Plus, it’s the class I thought I’d be in. (It turns out I was in the highest class during my orientation, right below native speakers… so it’s nice to be somewhere where I actually have equivalent abilities!) The history class was a little bit of lecture, which was actually easier than I thought since he wrote all the important things on the board anyway. Art History was just reading the syllabus but we have our first class in the Museo del Prado on Wednesday! Tomorrow I have my political science, but I’m pretty sure I’m not going to get Colgate credit for it, so I need to find something else to take! Also, it doesn’t seem like I’m going to have a ton of homework… I’m afraid I’ll forget how to do school senior year! Oh no!
¿Qué más? Nothing really. It’s extremely bizarre to not really be able to use the kitchen (except the microwave) but I finally bought some sandwich stuff so that I can stop spending quite so much money on lunch! Also, I have yet to really see raw vegetables as any part of the diet here, which is extremely weird to me.
Most importantly – I’m going to Paris for the weekend! I can’t wait!
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