Travel Bug

Coming to Spain, leaving the country for the first time, I was fully expecting to catch the “travel bug”. I now have the desire to go to more places having seen that it isn’t as unreachable as I had thought. For example, I am learning much more about ways to travel cheaply; hostels, couch surfing, cheap airlines and public transportation. I am becoming even more excited to take advantage of the Spanish I have learned and my studies in social services for free or paid travels/work in other countries, and plan to do this as soon as I have the opportunity.

While in my free time I normally think about what instrument or type of dance I would like to learn next, I have now started planning as well for the counties I’d like to visit and how I will accomplish that. A good friend of mine from the community college I attended says that she will travel with me when we have both graduated from university in 2 years. We could accomplish this by making international friendships and setting up places to stay for free, saving money and travelling cheaply, finding some sort of organization to volunteer with, or any combination of those things.

I feel a stronger draw towards some parts of the world, and I don’t always know why. Much of it has to do with only speaking English and (some) Spanish, but it also has to do with hearing about places from family, friends, school, and the media.

1. South America is by far where I would like to visit the most. Largely Spanish speaking, great geological diversity, interesting culture (much of which ties into that of Spain) and the most beautiful women on the planet. My father traveled there and I’ve always thought about going there some day.

2. The rest of the US. Feeling more identified as an American citizen now, I feel I should get to know my own county a bit more. I have family in Virginia and California, so I should be able to make my way around at some point with a good excuse. Most prominently, I’d like to see New York. A friend of mine described it as “downtown Seattle for miles”. I’d like to see the dancing and music scenes there, and see for myself the place in which so many movies are set.

3. An Island (outside Puget Sound). You know, I’ve been on few islands in my life, for very little time. And islands are cool. Not like continents as all.

4. Another English Speaking country. This could be Jamaica, England, Australia, or even somewhere English is widespread, like India. I like the idea of learning about a new culture without the added complication of understanding an entirely different language. Also I like how countries that share the same language have more cultural exchange.

This summer I’m going to Canada and Portland, OR.  My entire life I’ve lived about 3 hours from both, but never ventured to either. Now is the time! My Uncle lives in Virginia, and I am planning on visiting him sometime in the next 6 months.

I have so much that I need to write about. I will get to it all as soon as possible; but know I’m having a great time.

Arte

Here are some things I’ve seen in the streets. And maybe someone can help me understand, but I’ve now seen three similar-looking statues of naked gargoyley men.

Muchas Cosas

Language update:

One of the main reasons I decided to study in Spain, was to learn Spanish. When I asked my host family yesterday, they all agreed that I have improved since my arrival. My vocabulary has increased, mainly because I spend several hours a day looking up words that I need to communicate more easily and words that I hear people use a lot. I’ve learned how to use a few things that the people here say all the time; “vale”, “venga”, “mira”, “oye”, and “ole” to name a few. Listening to Spanish all day, immersion, is definitely helping me learn. But there are a couple things that I feel have contributed the most to this development:

1. Coming to peace with the fact that I will not understand everything. When I arrived, it was very overwhelming for my brain to have what seemed like mostly nonsense spoken to me. My brain was being overworked to understand, and I was having difficulties thinking about what was being currently spoken, still focusing on a word from a few sentences ago. Now that I’ve calmed down about my surroundings, I can focus better while I’m listening.

2. Getting to know my host family. Some conversations around the dinner table, I feel like I understand almost everything that is said, and can quickly contribute to the thoughts at least a few times. I now know my host family better, and even when they say words I don’t understand, I can still interpret gestures and interactions based on the personalities that I’ve observed. When listening to people not in my host family, it takes time for me to adjust to their voice before I can understand anything that is said.

Pronunciation: Before, I could not roll my Rs, but I could soften them enough from American pronunciation as to not sound completely horrible all the time because of it. Now, I can fake rolling them enough so that it’s indiscernible from good pronunciation in words with one R; (pero, trabajar, conducir, ect.) But I still cannot roll my Rs, and it’s impossible for me to pronounce words with 2 Rs correctly; (perro, cerrar, churreria, ect.) Otherwise, my pronunciation is definitely improving, and I really hope to master the rolling by the time I’m done with my studying here.

Music update:

I posted quite promptly after my arrival of how at least half of the popular music here is American, though I didn’t know why. As I sat in the long car ride to Southern Spain, thoroughly enjoying all my favorite American music, I began to ponder why the music in the US is so varied and popular.

All of the music in the US is unlike anything anywhere else in the world. For one thing, America is a place founded and notorious for immigration from all parts of the globe. This causes a collision of cultures, and music is often the most measurable aspect of a culture. In Spain, most of the people living here are ancestrally Spanish, while in America, new people are coming fresh off boats (or planes, nowadays) all the time, throwing in new influences to the music scene.

Secondly, America is has a culture of individuality, self expression, and free speech; likely rooted in the founding of America, Independence from Britain and immigration. Our culture tells us to be unique and allows us to express ourselves when we have the desire to. Lastly, the US’s wealth and free market is the main factor of why our music has become widespread. The evolution of music in the US is millions of times faster than that of people, religion, and politics. I feel that the music is better in the US not because of the talent or creativity of the artists there, but because of the amount of variety we have. So many genres to choose from =D

Every time I’m listening to some music that is known by most in the US, which I feel is a great classic that everyone should know, I realize that the majority of people here don’t know it. Instantly, I feel very sad for them for not having heard this music, and I also feel sad that they can’t enjoy the English lyrics if introduced to it. Even if they did know English, there is so much more to language, especially in song lyrics, that completely dependent on culture to understand at all. As a result, I have started enjoying the music I’ve always liked, about 10 times more, knowing that I can enjoy it a way that another person in the world wouldn’t be able to.

I was trying to tell my host sister about Bob Dylan; hands down, one f the most famous and talented folk musicians of America. I looked up the word “folk” in the dictionary, but quickly realized there is no translation. Folk music just means the music of the people, and the people here are different than the people there. To me, even the word “folk” has a lot of meaning behind it. As I began looking at the words to “Blowin’ in the Wind”, probably one of the most famous of his songs, I started to see how every word in the lyrics was filled with things that only someone in this culture would understand. That’s why it’s great. That’s why Bob Dylan, and countless other artists (folk or not) are great lyricists. It’s personal, and really is the music of the people.

I have been trying for several months now to understand and reciprocate the magic of folk music; I would sit in my room listening to Bob Dylan, Simon and Garfunkel, Cat Stevens, and then contemporary artists Tegan and Sara, Ani DiFranco and Amanda Palmer. Even after all that listening, coming to see a different set of people has definitely helped me understand it more. When writing songs myself, some combinations of words that I thought were overused or lacking meaning, actually are interesting. They are specific to my culture, and hold more significance because they are hard to translate. Actually writing about one thinks and feels is a better option than trying to write like someone they aren’t. Significant ideas only come from honesty.

Experience update:

I’m getting a whole set of experiences here that I wasn’t expecting to have. Many of them are positive, and many of them are purely informational. When studying in another country, there is no way to avoid learning more than what you went there for. I am trying to learn Spanish; but what I wasn’t exactly planning on was getting to learn about art, history, anthropology, linguistics, politics, biology, and cooking in the process.

1. On my way to Leon, I got to order alcoholic drinks, go to a hookah bar, and ride on a train.

2. A few days ago, I got to smell a lemon picked freshly off the tree. That was a great experience.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

3. I got to see a real beach (not that the beaches at home aren’t nice) but the sand is lovely here.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

As we drove towards the south coast of Spain (a mightly long drive) I began being extremely excited to see the water. Not only was it different water (if you really beleive it’s that different), but I was suffering (without knowing it) from inlandavitus. I started promising myself that I would never live inland permanently.

I loved beaching with warm skies and soft sand, but as I enjoyed the days I couldn’t help missing an excursion with my family which my mom always called “freezing at the beach”. The name of it alluded to the absurdity of the activity. We would buy a roasted chicken or something equally appealing for pursuasion, and walk around on a very cold, wet beach, looking for beach glass. The glass is produed on the beach from broken bottles of the reckless drunken youth, and by collecting it we get to have jars of colorful shiny stuff and also clean the beach. I spotted a clear piece of glass on the beach today, but upon looking further, found no more.

 

 

 

 

4. I got to see palm trees.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s likely from seeing movies set in wealthy parts of california, but palm trees seem like a true sign of luxury to me. There were plenty of them where I vacationed with my family. There was also no internet (surprising, considering the obvious palm-tree richness of the area), so I wasn’t able to blog about it sooner. I tried to tell my host sister that “palm trees are the pineapples of trees” in Spanish, but she didn’t seem to understand.

Many of the trees here are very different than the pines I’ve seen my entire life, and I am finding the new types of plants growing extremely interesting. Some of the trees, I think of as lion king trees. This is because until coming here, the only place I had seen one tree standing alone was in this scene of the lion king. I honestly saw that trees could only come in forests, unless they were in Africa, of course.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

With other trees, I finally understand the “tree” pictograph that we learn in gradeschool. It’s so…fluffy. I never understood it, I had never seen a tree like that. But seeing them around here, I now understand that it probably is a normal looking tree. A simple google search for “tree” or “cartoon tree” comes up with results similar to this. But, come to think of it, I’ve never seen a tree with a face like that either.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I still don’t understand the forrests I’ve seen, though. Literally, it’s just a bunch of trees, and you can see right through them to the other side. I feel like there’s something *more* to the forests in Washington. I think it’s blackberry bushes and squirrels. But there’s more. It’s the wettness, and the darkness, and the fallen rotten things. It’s intense and interesting compared to the forrests I’ve seen here. I wouldn’t even call them forests, even. #climatesnobbery

I saw a plant with yellow flowers growing. I remember seeing that (or what I thought was the same plant) growing at a beach near Seattle. My mom had told me at the time that it was an invasive species. Likely, I assume now, from Europe.

It’s funny to me when the people here say that the air or the water is cold. I get to laugh, and seem really tough because it’s a comfortable temperature for me; what I would even call warm or hot. It’s also funny when everyone on the street has umbrellas when it is barely sprinkling. My host mom offered me an umbrella one day and I told her “I’m from Seattle, I don’t need one.”

5. I’ve been having weird dreams. After a very restful day at the beach, I was surprised to still be having bad dreams. I don’t generally dream much, so it it quite strange. I think it’s from a combination of new places and experiences, causing me to be apprehensive subconsiously, no matter what I do. I am quite calm during the day, but a lot of my disorientation presents itself at night. I spoke to my friends in my program about this, and it seems like it’s happening to everyone. It was good to know I wasn’t alone in that.

6. I’ve been having  my share of homesickness and missing people. I think about my friends and family in the US a lot. I think about them a lot more than I was expecting to. A lot of times I see something that I know one of them would enjoy, and I wish they could be there to see it with me. My family members, my past roommates, and my other close friends; I miss you all. I’m having a great time, but I can’t tell you enough how glad I’ll be to come home.

Tradiciones

Tonight is Passover, and coming from a Jewish family whom practices it every year, I’m a bit sad that I won’t be celebrating it with my family. There’s something traditional to miss in the United States travelling at any time of year, so it was unavoidable. As I watched the processions for Semana Santa (which are a new cultural experience for me, but obviously stirred up sentimental memories of childhood for my host mother and the other locals) I began to remember all of the traditions in the US that I take for granted, think are lame, or deny their significance. As I gathered for a public Semana Santa practice at midnight last night, everyone in the crowd broke into some kind of chant. I didn’t know what it was; likely could have been religious or political. It helped me understand how much of what I know and understand is based on my culture, religion, and nation. At the same time, it was very cool to see how regardless of where people live, similar traditions exist.

I’m quite excited for the 4th of July this year, which I have never been excited for. Having a national anthem, national traditions and symbols is very cool. There is a student studying abroad from Wisconsin that is staying with part of my extended family; and it’s amazing how our shared nation, language, and culture has allowed us to communicate so easily compared to others here. It interesting how I went from not really identifying with people that lived more than 30 miles away from me, to identifying with people that lived in my home nation, or even people in the entire world.

Although I don’t get to see my real family in person today for our yearly celebration of our ancestral exodus, my extended host family is spending a lot of time together for Semana Santa.

 

From the left, my host: Uncle, Cousin, Mother, Aunt by marriage, Uncle, Cousin, Cousin, and (double host?) Cousin.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I will soon be posting pictures of my host sisters and Grandmother.

Semana Santa is extremely interesting. Looking outside right now, I see citizens dressed mostly in black and red, watching a band parading through the streets with outfits that the KKK derived their garb from. Because of this, Americans are more uncomfortable watching the festivities. Catholic  images of Christ, as you probably know, are much more gruesome than the watered-down Protestant versions. Looking at a man (or man-god) nailed to a cross with gashes in his skin is obviously alarming, and this image is thrown around more casually here, as Catholicism is the main religion here.

here are some pictures from the procession:

There were many outfits to be seen, each color and part undoubtedly with cultural and religious meaning.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I can see why their outfits were stolen for disguise, they’re scary!!

Lines and lines of pointy hated people playing instruments. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

There were special mouth slits in each hood for those with wind instruments.

For each outfit, there was a designated outfit in case a person was walking with a small child.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Adorable.

These grim-faced women walked with beads in their crossed hands and long black laced veils.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Which is probably why my host family contested when I called the procession a “fiesta”, not knowing the word for parade.

Probably the oddest thing, were these people walked in a uniformed way which made the Christ on their shoulders sway from side to side.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

My host mother informed me that the people dressed in brown were all women.

And here’s a little one on the drums.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I found something especially funny about him.

Jaywalking and Loitering

I went on a quest for sunscreen today. Once I found the horribly expensive goop, which was 12 times the price of cheap wine here, I decided to wander through the shopping district, looking for sandals. I got a bit lost and wound up at a castle I didn’t recognize. I sat down and lazily looked over my map, only caring that I had gotten lost because I needed to go to the bathroom. A woman sat next to me on the bench. I calmly asked her if she knew where we were and pointed at my map, using formal pronouns for courtesy. She pointed me the right way home, and I headed back without glancing at the map again. The streets of this city are quite easy to navigate, and are designed for pedestrians. Street names are hard to find, but the stone and brick paved streets are formed in star patterns with different fountains and statues at each center. This way, you never reach a dead end, you’re never lost, and you never have to decide between north and east. Simply go NorthEast if it’s ever a question.

Along the way, I found a used book store. I enjoy these places very much in the united states, and wandered inside almost forgetting that all of the books would be in Spanish. I thumbed through some childrens books I might be able to understand after rigorous studying, glossed over titles for those translated from books I’ve read and heard of and flipped through books with big pictures of famous art. I asked the shopkeeper if they had any piano music; my host sister plays and I had been thinking of getting her a gift.

I love living right next to a park. In fact, most people here live right next to a park, considering they are at every street corner. I’ve always loved the sounds of tweeting birds. In anthropology courses, I learned that the sound of tweeting birds is instinctually linked to a lack of natural disaster. If the birds sing, then all is well. I get to hear them every day as I walk through the park; I always forget how much I love it during winter. Summers there is berry picking, Fall there are the leaves, Winter has the wonderful frosty scenes, and Spring there are the tweeting birds. There’s something to love about every season.

I feel like I spend a lot of my time looking for differences and discrepancies in the culture here, and the culture I’ve seen in the United States. It’s easy to see the differences, but it takes a more open mind to savor the similarities. Anyone can go somewhere new and descibe how it’s all different; but I think some of the most sociological experiments come with wondering how people can be so similar across the globe.

No matter what language or customs people hold, there are always people you like, and people you don’t like as much. Why is this? It’s not necessarily where someone lives or how they were raised that determines what kind of person they are. My host sister of 13 years came home from school upset, and with what little Spanish I know, I’m managed to give her words of encouragement and consolation. It’s amazing how a caring look or gesture can be understood despite language barriers. I didn’t have to study Spanish culture for years to know that 13 is a difficult age for girls, or that she has a loving family surrounding her, or that she has a bright future ahead of her. I love that language doesn’t divide humans as much as everyone thinks, and I’m glad it hasn’t taken my entire life to realize this.

Here’s some more pics for your pleasure:

This is another symbol of León. It’s found on bus stops, manholes and carved into buildings. Here it’s on a trash can. 

 These funny little trees are found everywhere around town. City maintenance cuts off their branches, so we’ll never know what they actually look like. 

In addition to doing this (which seems quite laborious) they clean the streets of litter every day.

I found this small mural while sauntering through back streets. 

Mmmm Picasso inspired art in the country of his birth.

Couple examples of streets in León. Part urban, part antiquated.

¿Dónde estoy?

Today, there was a different tone to the small, tranquil city of León. Today was a huelga general (general strike) of the workers of Spain. My teacher informed me that there is a 20% unemployment rate in Spain right now. The shops closed, the city flooded with people from other towns, and there was a sense of injustice, patriotism, and social change. Even the birds in the trees were singing with a different attitude. The streets were flooded with people waving signs and these posters:

            

My professor warned us yesterday that the building to our school might close. It didn’t, and our quiz and class went on as scheduled. Last night some classmates of mine almost got locked in a bar when they closed shop at midnight for the strike. I loved seeing this town, which has so much history, taking place in history.

Being in Spain for 3 months, I have no choice but to witness political changes. I am not just living here and learning Spanish, I’m getting to be a part of everyday life; wether that be tranquil, celebratory or revolutionary.

Speaking of celebratory, the largest holiday in Spain is appraoching; Semana Santa (literally, Holy Week). The first two days of the holiday, I will be watching parades, music, and other festivities in León, and I will then take a road trip to Valencia with my host family. It will be sunny, and I’ll get to lie on the beach. This really is a big holiday; it’s like Christmas in the States. Walking down the street weeks prior to the holiday, you can see related trinkets in shop windows and hear people talking about it with their friends and family. It’s fun that by being here, I get to be a child again in the sense that I get to see new things all the time. I can’t wait to upload the pictures from the holiday.

On a tour of the city, I was pointed towards a building that I now know is by Gaudí. It is one of the few works that is not located in Barcelona.

I have a great veiw of the Cathedral from my balcony (on the 9th floor), and at night when it’s illuminated, it reminds me eerily of the disney castle. Here’s a close-up view at about 11pm.

I am astounded as local people walk through beautiful building and streets without gawking as I did my first few days here. I’m sure they know how beautiful their town is, and I bet it affects their mood positively. People here are quite calm and happy.

I went to a museum and church here, with things from the 10-12 centuries. It’s called the Basilica of San Isidoro. A student in my group kept commenting about how ancient catholicism was “creepy” and “scary”. I agree with this comment whole heartedly. Catholicism especially has a very odd, dark past filled with the blood of conquests, the control of the lower class, customs that are so old that the origin is unknown, and mystical biblical conceptions that are difficult to understand. The power of religion is also extremely scary, especially when it is as organized as Catholicism.

Here is one of the symbols of León; it’s found everywhere, engraved on plaques in parks and shown on the signs of stores.

Fotos

Here I am in my new room. Everything is fantastic. Music and dance really helped me show my talents to my family today. I’ve bonded with my sisters. My mamá kept telling me that for the amount of time that I have studied Spanish, I am very good at understanding and speaking. They were told that I spoke very little Spanish by my teacher, which was completely true at the time it was told to them, and they had expected me to communicate more poorly. With the help of my Spanish class last quarter and my practice on the way here, I have improved greatly and spoke of many things to my family with some difficulty, but not much. Here are a few things that I thought were interesting in the past few days:

In France, men are required to carry staffs.

Actually, this was a sign on a bus that shows one should hold on to a pole.

Wine is cheaper than gum in Spain.

No wonder people don’t carry around water bottles!

And you thought mimes were creepy?

He talks with a whistle on his tongue which makes his voice extremely high pitched and creepy. Worst thing is, they are everwhere; sometimes as disembodied heads on a table.

Madrid is a beautiful city.

I spent this afternoon people-watching downtown.

The musicians are legít. 

After their set, I scatted to Hit the Road Jack with them.

The people are loca!

This discoteca was fun; great drinks and loca people. Being crazy is never a bad thing in Spain.

Spiderman defends La Plaza Mayor of Madrid from American criminals like me. 

Despite beating me up, he was very nice. There is actually a Plaza Mayor in every major city of Spain.

There will be more pictures, summaries and thoughts tomorrow. Hasta luego.