So given that my real classes end this week, I should say my thoughts on each of them. I say real classes because after this week we just have two weeks of the seven of us from Seattle U learning culture and literature for 2(?) hours a day. And whether or not we are graded is uncertain. Anyway, here are my thoughts.
Language: This is by far my favorite class. It is two hours from 9 to 11 or so. My professor is awesome. She's super chill. I'm not exactly certain whether or not she has ever come to class on time. She understands that we are college students. She has noted our "tiredness" on at least one occasion. She wants to have fun as much as we do and we have managed to do so while moving pretty quickly through the material. Her favorite things to say are "no pasa nada" (which I take to mean don't worry but I'm not entirely sure) and "don't worry, be happy" in English. Bobby McFerrin's memory lives on in Spain. (Though a quick Wikipedia search shows me that he is still alive. Whoops!) Belén is one of my favorite professors so far in college.
More than that, I just find it interesting to learn about the grammar and such of the language and learn more words. I came hear to better learn how to speak Spanish so obvs this will be more interesting to me. And even though a lot of it is review, it's still interesting to learn the intricacies of the languages and some smaller things I didn't learn before. I still have trouble with things I had trouble with before, like when to use which word for "to be" (ser and estar) and which word for "for" to use (por or para). But overall I feel a lot more confident with my Spanish than when I got here which is most important.
Culture: This class is also taught by Belén so it's a double dose of awesome. I wouldn't say it's as useful but it is pretty interesting to learn about the geography (who knew I'd be interested in geography?!), food and other customs of the country. A lot of days we just watched YouTube videos of bull fighting or Flamenco dancing and I'd be lying if I said I didn't doze off every once and awhile (ed. note: "once and awhile" means "day" in this case) but still there are a lot of interesting things to learn. I actually know some about Franco and the Spanish Civil War, which I didn't really before. And the next 3(?) days we get to watch a Spanish movie, either the Spanish version of the Hangover or a pretty decent looking drama called "Celda 211" which Wikipedia calls a "prison film". I managed to absorb the things in this class that interested me (fun fact: the prime minister of Spain is named Jose Zapatero, which translates to Joseph Shoemaker. This is how my mind works.) I have no idea what the next two weeks of culture class will be but hopefully it's as enjoyable/relaxed as the last six.
Literature: The hour of the day that I dread the most. I was already less than keen on the class because I don't really like literature because reading is gross. Add to that that I'm not necessarily fluent in Spanish and I was quite scared going into it. Then I went to class. While I am able to understand her better now, the first day of class was really terrifying. Our professor, who has the ever-so-flattering name of Balbi, sounded like an auctioneer getting many bids on a hot item on my first day. Every day i go to class I just feel like I am being talked at for an hour. Some days it is literally just her reading a handout she gives us and adding her own commentary/repeating the same thing we already understand in many different ways. I would probably understand her better if I focused all my energy on listening to her but I have trouble focusing in English literature classes where comprehending what the professor/teacher is saying isn't a problem. Add to that a professor who is strangely strict on absences (weird that the foreign exchange students leave on Fridays for school sanctioned excursions) and noise (she has repeatedly gotten upset at us for rustling papers, though it's mainly because we get 2 or 3 handouts a day if I'm being conservative).
So I'm not too hot about literature. I can understand what we're reading if I have Google translate out and am able to read it at my own pace but reading at Balbi-pace is not that. It seems like a lot of it is the same BS-ing of an English literature class and regurgitating what Balbi says about the works. This includes saying something along the lines of poor people don't have feelings or psychology because they are only worried about survival, which what? It's easy enough to do and I'm getting decent grades but it's just not enjoyable at all and such a change from my first three hours of the day. I figured that the professors would be understanding of our lack of fluency but I feel like I'm going to be made feel like an idiot, in the bad way, whenever I say something in her class, either because it doesn't go with her correct answer of what the interpretation is or because I am sometimes not very eloquent with the words in Spanish. My language professor makes fun of my accent but she does it in a joking way and it makes me laugh. When Balbi does it I can almost feel the disdain in her tone. Perhaps all of this is just altered by my initial first impression of him but everyone seems to hate the class that I've talked to so probably not. When she talks to us about non-literary things it's not so bad so who knows.
Anyway there's what my actual studying is like. My normal classes come to an end on Friday and I get to be in special Seattle University culture and literature classes for the last two weeks of the program to get enough credit-hours. Hopefully lit is more good with a new professor and Balbi is an aberration.
Monday, August 8, 2011
Friday, July 15, 2011
Observations
Since I've gotten to things I've noticed things. It's kind of remarkable. Somehow my senses came with me on this trip. You tried your best, airport security. Anyway I do this in lieu of an actual update of things I've done because.... I'll get back to you on that.
-Spanish people speak really quickly. It's almost like they are fluent in the language or something. This came as a bit of a surprise, as I assumed they spoke more quickly in Latin America than here (which they still might) but it doesn't make the listening thing much easier, though it's vastly better from two weeks ago.
-Everything is magnified here, in a sensory sense. People speak louder. Smells smell smellier. Things feel stickier (maybe that's only Pamplona). Mainly the smell thing though.
-Many bathrooms are labelled WC, or water closet. Apparently this is a common thing to call a bathroom in the UK. I guess labeling them this makes it easier for the possibly more common English tourist but it seems like they would learn what an aseo is fairly quickly out of sheer survival. Also, this is weird because Spanish treats Ws as a more ostracized version of Q.
-I'm pretty sure the music you would here at an American club or party is identical to what you would hear at a Spanish one, though it's possible the places I've frequented have been highly American. Still it seems strange to not filter in some native music here and there. It's even true on TV. There's a maybe 3 second ad for Opel, the car company, that has the main guitar riff from Layla. I wonder 1. whether they had to pay for it and 2. if it was worth it for so short of a commercial. Maybe that's why it's so short. I also here the whistling portion of Home by Edward Sharpe every now and then.
-The term "Eurotrash" didn't really register with me until I arrived here. There are two separate classes and only one is unique here. There are your typical bros, which we have in America, with the popped collars, gelled hair, travelling in packs, etc. Then there is the Euro exclusive category which has many characteristics of the bro category except they have some sort of atrocious hair. The mullet is still a thing here. Rat tails are still a thing here. The thing I don't have a name for but is best described as the mullet-into-dreadlocks is a thing here. I know what the early 90s were like now.
Things I miss the most from the US (aside from people):
-Hamburgers because they aren't as common here and I don't really want to try hamburgers here until I'm really desperate, one time in Pamplona aside.
-Pets because I see people walking dogs everywhere and it makes me miss my dogs.
Things that are impossible/difficult to find here:
-Over the counter medicine. I just want to buy NyQuil without having to enter a pharmacy. Can't you sell it, nearby grocery store?
-Bars of soap. I do not know why.
-Normally sized washcloths. They only have hand towel sized ones. My roomate and I cut one in half to make less cumbersome and also because we are cheap.
-Good beer. Mahou is awful.
-Movies in English. Not terribly surprising but I wish Spain was a subtitle country rather than a dubbing country (wikipedia reveals that it is a heated debate)
Maybe I'm not looking hard enough for these things.
-Spanish people speak really quickly. It's almost like they are fluent in the language or something. This came as a bit of a surprise, as I assumed they spoke more quickly in Latin America than here (which they still might) but it doesn't make the listening thing much easier, though it's vastly better from two weeks ago.
-Everything is magnified here, in a sensory sense. People speak louder. Smells smell smellier. Things feel stickier (maybe that's only Pamplona). Mainly the smell thing though.
-Many bathrooms are labelled WC, or water closet. Apparently this is a common thing to call a bathroom in the UK. I guess labeling them this makes it easier for the possibly more common English tourist but it seems like they would learn what an aseo is fairly quickly out of sheer survival. Also, this is weird because Spanish treats Ws as a more ostracized version of Q.
-I'm pretty sure the music you would here at an American club or party is identical to what you would hear at a Spanish one, though it's possible the places I've frequented have been highly American. Still it seems strange to not filter in some native music here and there. It's even true on TV. There's a maybe 3 second ad for Opel, the car company, that has the main guitar riff from Layla. I wonder 1. whether they had to pay for it and 2. if it was worth it for so short of a commercial. Maybe that's why it's so short. I also here the whistling portion of Home by Edward Sharpe every now and then.
-The term "Eurotrash" didn't really register with me until I arrived here. There are two separate classes and only one is unique here. There are your typical bros, which we have in America, with the popped collars, gelled hair, travelling in packs, etc. Then there is the Euro exclusive category which has many characteristics of the bro category except they have some sort of atrocious hair. The mullet is still a thing here. Rat tails are still a thing here. The thing I don't have a name for but is best described as the mullet-into-dreadlocks is a thing here. I know what the early 90s were like now.
Things I miss the most from the US (aside from people):
-Hamburgers because they aren't as common here and I don't really want to try hamburgers here until I'm really desperate, one time in Pamplona aside.
-Pets because I see people walking dogs everywhere and it makes me miss my dogs.
Things that are impossible/difficult to find here:
-Over the counter medicine. I just want to buy NyQuil without having to enter a pharmacy. Can't you sell it, nearby grocery store?
-Bars of soap. I do not know why.
-Normally sized washcloths. They only have hand towel sized ones. My roomate and I cut one in half to make less cumbersome and also because we are cheap.
-Good beer. Mahou is awful.
-Movies in English. Not terribly surprising but I wish Spain was a subtitle country rather than a dubbing country (wikipedia reveals that it is a heated debate)
Maybe I'm not looking hard enough for these things.
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Madrid
We left off with my touchdown in Madrid. That was almost two weeks ago. Staying current!
When I got out of the airplane in Madrid, I walked for what felt like 12 miles through the airport. I went over at least eight moving sidewalks. I just kept following the sign that said "way out" until I got to the customs area. This was less eventful than I expected, as depressed-looking Spaniard simply stamped my passport and I went about my business. My business was chilling in the airport for an hour or two as I didn't have a place to stay that night and had never been to the city. I began by getting a map and calling my professor. The phone call was for the low, low price of one euro for 30 seconds of speaking time. Anyway, I was able to surmise what Metro station to exit to meet my friend, who I was planning on splitting a room with.
I asked the lady at the Metro kiosk - in Spanish - what the fastest way to get to the Atocha station was because I was baffled by the Metro map and very easily could have taken five or six trains if I didn't get help. This didn't work out so well because she spoke far too quickly for me to understand her and I had to revert to English. it turns out that speaking a language for the first time in three weeks makes you a little rusty. From there I got on the Metro and there wasn't really a problem there. Just some possible strange looks from the locals for being all gross from not having access to a shower for however long and having a large bag and backpack with me. The fun began once I got off the train.
The Atocha station opens up to the street at a large traffic circle. Looking at my map, I had no idea which part of the circle was me. So I just kept walking. I ended up walking the opposite direction for quite a while, fruitlessly looking at the map every couple of blocks to try to find where I was. I say fruitlessly because I didn't know what street I was on because street signs are on the sides of buildings rather than on posts like in the US. Once I figured out that I was going the wrong way, I turned around and eventually figured out which way to go. Hooray, generally decent sense of direction when given a map!
When i arrived at the hostel at which I was hoping to stay for the night, they didn't have any rooms. Which sucks because it was affordable, had internet and had a decent amount of people there (duh I suppose). So, panicked, I again called my godsend of a Spanish professor who was in Madrid and she helped me out and met me. She found me a hostel, which could have taken me a lot of time to do given my lack of proficiency in understanding Spanish and the fact that it was a Friday in a popular tourist destination. So after all that, I got my stuff settled and got ungross after walking around with all my stuff in ~90 degree weather and had some delicious tapas and cerveza with my professor and her daughter. Then I slept for about five hours. Then I tried to meet with my friend/future roommate but he also got lost! Then i slept for an hour. Then I, two hours late, had the idea to ask the person at the hostel if he had seen my friend and I had just missed him! So I waited there and stole their internet for an hour and was able to communicate with him through the only means I had, which was Facebook. We arranged a time we were meeting in the morning and I proceeded to sleep another 8 or so hours.
In the morning I met Nick (aforementioned friend) and my professor and her daughter and we went to buy our tickets to go to Salamanca the next day. The train station was amazingly large, based on my knowledge of how one train station looks. It had trees and a mini shopping mall and other assorted delights. You take a number to get an appointment to buy a ticket, sort of like the department of licensing. After that we got a mini-tour of that particular region of the city and parted ways with those two. We just hung out in the thankfully fanned room for a while then went to the modern art museum a few blocks away, also thankfully air conditioned. It was pretty interesting. There was a wide variety of art and "art" there. I think that is about all the highlights of my day and a half-ish in Madrid. I'm sure there is a lot more to see there than I saw but hopefully I am able to come back someday and see it.
When I got out of the airplane in Madrid, I walked for what felt like 12 miles through the airport. I went over at least eight moving sidewalks. I just kept following the sign that said "way out" until I got to the customs area. This was less eventful than I expected, as depressed-looking Spaniard simply stamped my passport and I went about my business. My business was chilling in the airport for an hour or two as I didn't have a place to stay that night and had never been to the city. I began by getting a map and calling my professor. The phone call was for the low, low price of one euro for 30 seconds of speaking time. Anyway, I was able to surmise what Metro station to exit to meet my friend, who I was planning on splitting a room with.
I asked the lady at the Metro kiosk - in Spanish - what the fastest way to get to the Atocha station was because I was baffled by the Metro map and very easily could have taken five or six trains if I didn't get help. This didn't work out so well because she spoke far too quickly for me to understand her and I had to revert to English. it turns out that speaking a language for the first time in three weeks makes you a little rusty. From there I got on the Metro and there wasn't really a problem there. Just some possible strange looks from the locals for being all gross from not having access to a shower for however long and having a large bag and backpack with me. The fun began once I got off the train.
The Atocha station opens up to the street at a large traffic circle. Looking at my map, I had no idea which part of the circle was me. So I just kept walking. I ended up walking the opposite direction for quite a while, fruitlessly looking at the map every couple of blocks to try to find where I was. I say fruitlessly because I didn't know what street I was on because street signs are on the sides of buildings rather than on posts like in the US. Once I figured out that I was going the wrong way, I turned around and eventually figured out which way to go. Hooray, generally decent sense of direction when given a map!
When i arrived at the hostel at which I was hoping to stay for the night, they didn't have any rooms. Which sucks because it was affordable, had internet and had a decent amount of people there (duh I suppose). So, panicked, I again called my godsend of a Spanish professor who was in Madrid and she helped me out and met me. She found me a hostel, which could have taken me a lot of time to do given my lack of proficiency in understanding Spanish and the fact that it was a Friday in a popular tourist destination. So after all that, I got my stuff settled and got ungross after walking around with all my stuff in ~90 degree weather and had some delicious tapas and cerveza with my professor and her daughter. Then I slept for about five hours. Then I tried to meet with my friend/future roommate but he also got lost! Then i slept for an hour. Then I, two hours late, had the idea to ask the person at the hostel if he had seen my friend and I had just missed him! So I waited there and stole their internet for an hour and was able to communicate with him through the only means I had, which was Facebook. We arranged a time we were meeting in the morning and I proceeded to sleep another 8 or so hours.
In the morning I met Nick (aforementioned friend) and my professor and her daughter and we went to buy our tickets to go to Salamanca the next day. The train station was amazingly large, based on my knowledge of how one train station looks. It had trees and a mini shopping mall and other assorted delights. You take a number to get an appointment to buy a ticket, sort of like the department of licensing. After that we got a mini-tour of that particular region of the city and parted ways with those two. We just hung out in the thankfully fanned room for a while then went to the modern art museum a few blocks away, also thankfully air conditioned. It was pretty interesting. There was a wide variety of art and "art" there. I think that is about all the highlights of my day and a half-ish in Madrid. I'm sure there is a lot more to see there than I saw but hopefully I am able to come back someday and see it.
Wednesday, July 6, 2011
Flying
I've been in Spain for almost a week, though it feels like it has been longer (in a good way). I now have an excuse to write because I have homework to put off doing/have a reliable source of internet. For now I'll just write about my experience before coming to Salamanca because my memory of what happened will quickly vanish.
Things started off pretty uneventfully. Caught an early morning flight to JFK from Seattle with like 3 hours of sleep partially because summer American John is bad at going to bed before three in the morning and partially because I was having a mild freak out over what I was getting myself into. Things started off marvelously when an Asian lady on my flight came through in the clutch and gave me her aisle seat in the last row in exchange for my middle seat next to her daughter/sister/aunt/cousin. I was sitting next to two guys in orange Buddhist robes which was pretty cool just because that doesn't happen everyday. The flight was surprisingly swift and we landed a half hour ahead of schedule which was nice I guess but it just gave an extra thirty minutes of time to kill. This time was killed by eating at an airport restaurant wherein the guy offered me a beer because they didn't have the pepper jack cheese I requested. The burger was amazing though and a great last American meal. Time was also spent trying to spot Hassidic Jews in the airport, of which I found two. New York! The rest of the time was spent trying to charge my electronic devices and calling loved ones while I still had the ability to do so without needing a n internet connection.
Things learned at JFK:
-It is im-goddamn-possible to talk on the phone with any reliability when you are near a terminal as the overhead announcer says something approximately every 3 seconds. It is even more difficult when your name is being called on said intercom.
-JFK has nine terminals, one of which is dedicated solely to American Airlines. When travelling between terminals you have to go through security again. I discovered that my flight left not from Gate 7 but from Terminal 7 about two hours before my flight left, which thankfully was enough time.
-Hudson News is a strange company in that they only exist in airports but they seem to monopolize the convenience store/bookseller/magazine industry within the airport. What a strange monopoly to have.
My flight to Madrid was worse than my first flight. I did get to have a window seat but A. it was a red eye flight so yay darkness B. I was on the wing mostly and C. it was a transatlantic flight so if you love to see water and clouds then grand. My row companion was also an old lady who I didn't want to make get up that much. I have trouble sitting down for 8 hours straight or whatever so this was somewhat problematic but I soldiered through it. But overall it was fine and I slept a scoshe. Complaining about being uncomfortable is the whitest thing ever so I'll stop.
I think I'll leave it there since I have homework I can't procrastinate any longer (Spanish poems :( ) and figure I'll leave flight related nonsense to one post. Whenever I write again I will regale you with tale of my times in Madrid and tell of my experienes in my first week in Salamanca.
Things started off pretty uneventfully. Caught an early morning flight to JFK from Seattle with like 3 hours of sleep partially because summer American John is bad at going to bed before three in the morning and partially because I was having a mild freak out over what I was getting myself into. Things started off marvelously when an Asian lady on my flight came through in the clutch and gave me her aisle seat in the last row in exchange for my middle seat next to her daughter/sister/aunt/cousin. I was sitting next to two guys in orange Buddhist robes which was pretty cool just because that doesn't happen everyday. The flight was surprisingly swift and we landed a half hour ahead of schedule which was nice I guess but it just gave an extra thirty minutes of time to kill. This time was killed by eating at an airport restaurant wherein the guy offered me a beer because they didn't have the pepper jack cheese I requested. The burger was amazing though and a great last American meal. Time was also spent trying to spot Hassidic Jews in the airport, of which I found two. New York! The rest of the time was spent trying to charge my electronic devices and calling loved ones while I still had the ability to do so without needing a n internet connection.
Things learned at JFK:
-It is im-goddamn-possible to talk on the phone with any reliability when you are near a terminal as the overhead announcer says something approximately every 3 seconds. It is even more difficult when your name is being called on said intercom.
-JFK has nine terminals, one of which is dedicated solely to American Airlines. When travelling between terminals you have to go through security again. I discovered that my flight left not from Gate 7 but from Terminal 7 about two hours before my flight left, which thankfully was enough time.
-Hudson News is a strange company in that they only exist in airports but they seem to monopolize the convenience store/bookseller/magazine industry within the airport. What a strange monopoly to have.
My flight to Madrid was worse than my first flight. I did get to have a window seat but A. it was a red eye flight so yay darkness B. I was on the wing mostly and C. it was a transatlantic flight so if you love to see water and clouds then grand. My row companion was also an old lady who I didn't want to make get up that much. I have trouble sitting down for 8 hours straight or whatever so this was somewhat problematic but I soldiered through it. But overall it was fine and I slept a scoshe. Complaining about being uncomfortable is the whitest thing ever so I'll stop.
I think I'll leave it there since I have homework I can't procrastinate any longer (Spanish poems :( ) and figure I'll leave flight related nonsense to one post. Whenever I write again I will regale you with tale of my times in Madrid and tell of my experienes in my first week in Salamanca.
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