These photos were from our weekend trip to Marbella, which essentially consisted of hanging out all day in a beautiful resort, eating chorizo sandwiches, hanging out on the beach, playing chess on a giant board (I missed the game a lot and it was great to play again), and enjoying a few beverages. I cannot post these pictures without thanking my friend Christina, who was able to make our stay for two nights at this unreal resort cost less than our round trip bus ticket. Without her Marriott discount, we would not have taken the trip, that simple.

These photos are from our hike in the Alpujaras, waaaaay back during orientation. It was a great hike, and the views were beautiful. I wrote about the hike in more detail in one of the first posts, so if these photos inspire any questions, look back through the posts for some answers (also, I did my best to describe our guide without a photo in that post, so now that there is a photo I would like to know if my description did our mountaineering friend justice…really, tell me). More photos to come, gotta make up for 2 weeks of idle time on here.

This post has now been eaten twice due to poor internet connection. I am not a big fan of excuses so I apologize for not making it happen sooner anyway. Should have had this up Monday at the latest. Anyway, as you have probably already noticed, I am going with a little different format for this post. That is because this is the prologue to the much anticipated picture post! Over the next couple days, I will be throwing up pictures of the IES hike in the Alpujaras, the weekend trip to Marbella I made with friends, the day trip to Cordoba (including pictures of the Mosque/Cathedral, a truly awesome work of humanity), and of course, the lovely city of Granada. For the trips to the Alpujaras, Marbella, and Cordoba, you can check out some of my older posts for some background information on each adventure. The pictures will be put up with captions during the rest of this week. Before that, however, I would like to get caught up in chronicling my time here in Spain.

In the last post, I mentioned that I was having a particularly difficult time staying awake in my comparative politics class at the University of Granada. While I have not, and will not, take an all out nap in class, I usually start combating some extremely heavy eyelids 5 to 15 minutes into each lecture. I am not too sure how to proceed. Perhaps caffeine is the answer. Perhaps a short nap before class. If you have any suggestions let me know. I will keep you updated on this front, and we shall see if I am able to make any progress.

The past two weeks, with a few exceptions, have been pretty routine. I have been going to class, getting a lot of tapas, and indulging a little extra on the weekends. However, in this context, the word routine has no connotation of boredom. Instead, I look at is as something exciting because it demonstrates that I am beginning to adapt to my surroundings, and I am somewhere in the transition between tourist and resident. The other exciting development has been my language skills. While I still struggle quite a bit, I have definitely improved since I first arrived. The best indication of my improvement is that recently, I have found myself in conversations with Spaniards that were real conversations, not simply talking. I think there is an innate difference between simply talking to someone versus engaging another in a conversation, but I think that when we only have to use our native tongue, this difference goes unnoticed. However, when the solid ground that is language suddenly becomes unstable, as it has for me in Spain, this difference becomes clearly obvious, and the real conversations you have in Spanish, though few and far between, become cherished moments.

With that being said, there have been some breaks in the routine. Last weekend I went with two friends to Cadiz for Carnival. We bought bus tickets, and at noon, we began the four and half hour journey southwest to Cadiz. When we arrived, the excitement in the air was tangible, and there was a general vibe of anticipation as charter bus after charter bus unloaded dozens of 20 somethings in costumes ready to party until dawn. For my friends and I, the first order of business was getting costumes. Unfortunately, none of us had prepared and purchased/created one in Granada, so we had to make it happen in Cadiz. We looked for close to an hour, and finally I settled on a Chinese-style shirt with one of those traditional Chinese skullcaps with the tassel in the back. So essentially, I was a really tall Chinese man for Carnival. For a good part of the night, we hung out with some Spanish kids that were on our bus, and a few of the girls were calling me “Super Chino.” In all honesty I would have let them call me just about anything. We began celebrating by enjoying our respective drinks of choice while looking out over the ocean. It was a great view, and the socializing, in Spanish and English, was great. After that, for the rest of the night we essentially wandered around while enjoying our beverages. Carnival is a huge party in the street, with a good portion of the city shut down and costumed people of all ages packing the streets. We stopped at a concert that was being held in a plaza for a while, but the majority of our time was simply wandering the streets and enjoying the spectacle of it all. I know that this might come across as almost a letdown of sorts, but that could not be further from the truth. It was a really wild experience. Unfortunately, the hours of partying caught up to me around 3 in the morning, and I hit the wall that many of my friends who had been to carnival the weekend before had warned me about. For the next hour I really had to battle to stay awake, at times literally falling asleep in the street. Not too fun.

I was able rally sometime between 4 and 5 in the morning, just in time to start heading back for the bus, which was scheduled to depart at 6 am. We were all pretty worn out, but like many great nights, there was one pleasant surprise waiting for us. Near the buses, there was a hamburger stand set up, and at 5:30 in the morning, business was booming. I met up with my buddies at the stand, and when I arrived, they had already struck up an animated conversation with a Cadiz local. I do not remember this man’s name, but over the next 15 minutes, I probably laughed as hard as I have ever laughed. Right off the bat, the guy had two things going for him: 1.) He was just a funny guy, and 2.) He had the trademark thick Cadiz accent. The topic of the conversation was generally Cadiz and what an awesome place it is. He explained that in general Cadiz was laid back, and always ready to party. He compared Cadiz to other cities in a combination of words and gestures: for Madrid, he ran in place, alluding to the hustle and bustle of Spain’s largest city and capital. For Granada, he acted out a leisurely stroll, for me an accurate description of Granada’s laid back, yet subtly dignified, character. Then came Cadiz. For his hometown, our new friend gave a couple textbook “could care less” gestures like a shoulder shrug and a spaced out stare skywards, followed by some gesture to his crotch, which I took to be a local gesture for really chillin’ out without a care in the world, though I could be wrong. I was dying, laughing so hard I was getting an ab workout. The hits kept coming too. Whenever he would talk about Cadiz, he would begin his sentences with a passionate “En Cadiz…” only with his accent, Cadiz is pronounced something like “Cahdee.” The funniest part of the encounter was when he explained all the great times to party in Cadiz. What I gathered from this part of the conversation is that, Carnival, March, June through August, September especially (I emphasize September because he said “en verano, septiembre…SEPTIEMBRE,” and that was it…I can only imagine what goes down in September), November, and Christmas are great times to party. I could be missing a few. He also had a great gesture for drinking. I was using the classic thumb-and-pinky-form-an-imaginary-glass-then-drink-from-it gesture, but our new amigo had a different, more subtle approach. He would simply take his hand, a few inches from his lower chest, palm inward, and give a slight downward movement. It kind of looked like he was about to shake someone’s hand, only way to close to his body. Regardless, I got a big kick out of this gesture, and I plan on using it when I can.

After this wonderful chance encounter came to a close, we boarded our bus, and headed back for Granada. Within 5 minutes, everyone on the bus crashed, most not waking up until we returned to Granada. We got back to Granada around 11 in the morning. I walked back home, and essentially slept for the rest of the day, taking a few food breaks. It was an epic Saturday, and I needed to recover.

(This should have been put up yesterday but my computer snacked on the first half that I wrote earlier so I am starting from scratch again this morning.)

On Tuesday, I went down to play some basketball at the lovely cobblestone courts across the street from the University of Granada. It was one of the better runs I have had down there, and some solid players showed up. I was fortunate enough to get on a good team early on, and we only lost a couple games so we spent a lot of time on the court. A little later my buddy Ray from North Carolina showed up, and as soon as he got on my squad, we never sat, not once. But this is anecdote is not about describing an afternoon of undefeated pick up basketball. This is about a genuinely shocking experience that could contradict serious opinions I had of Spanish culture. One of the players I had some good battles with that day was a big Spanish guy, who played me man up and with a style somewhere in between physical and dirty (this on its own is a surprising change, but wait, it gets better). When his team came on the court to play against my squad, the large Spaniard turned to an American teammate of his and jokingly pleaded (translated from Spanish) “Hey how about this game you play a little defense. Not a little, just a little bit of defense please.” WHAAAAAAT?! A Spaniard calling out an American about playing tougher man to man defense? Does this contradict everything I wrote about in my last post? Is this an exception to the rule, or are there a significant amount of Spaniards that actually play, and expect their teammates to play, tough man defense? This is a potentially groundbreaking discovery, and only further research will be able to tell whether or not my initial hypothesis is correct or not…

It has been about two weeks since I last posted, and I apologize to everyone who enjoys reading this blog that I have not taken it more seriously. I will work to get back to somewhere around once a week for posting. Also, another thing to get out of the way is that I was involved in an incident at a club two weeks ago, and my only comments will be all is well now, and I do not plan on returning in the near future. Perhaps the biggest change in the past two weeks is that I have begun taking my University of Granada Class in comparative politics. Up until two weeks ago, all of my classes were run through my study abroad program, and while they are great classes, I am only in there with other Americans from my study abroad program. My UGR (University of Granada) class is a politics class for Spanish students, though as of now, I know for a fact that our class has American, Spanish, English, German, and Belgian students. Should be an interesting experience. The unfortunate part about this class is that it is from 4 to 6 pm on Tuesday and Wednesday, which was my prime siesta time before I had this class. Thus, staying awake in class has proven to be one of the most challenging things I have faced in recent memory. I need to go to work on this. I’m thinking eating faster at lunch and clearing out enough time for a 30 minute power nap, and/or grabbing a Coca-cola on the way to class. This will be a trial and error process, and I will keep you posted on my progress.

These last two weekends, I have been presented with two great intra-Spain travel opportunities. Last weekend, i joined nine other kids from our program, and we headed to the Southern Mediterranean coast to the town of Marbella. Marbella is a town famous for its lavishness, and it is a favorite vacation spot of celebrities and aristocrats alike. My host mom told me that for her, Marbella in a nutshell was the beach, and the 6000 euro purse she once encountered while shopping there. One particular area of Marbella, Puerto Banús, is particularly famous for its lavish yachts and even more lavish patrons. However, we did not experience any of this. One of our friends has an affiliation with Marriott hotels, and so we were able to stay in a 3 bedroom hotel room, complete with a full kitchen, living room, laundry room, and 3 bathrooms for two nights for only 23 Euro per person. To put that in context, the bus ride, round trip, from Granada to Marbella, cost more than the hotel did for two nights. It was perhaps one of the best bargains I have been a part of, and we were all very fortunate to have our friend offer us the opportunity. However, once we were inside this resort, the only excursion we made outside of its boundaries was one to the grocery store to stock up on food for the weekend. After that, we got over the fact the resort was “touristy” very fast, and enjoyed time on the beach, the pool deck, and eating on our balcony with an exceptional view of the Mediterranean, and if you looked close enough, the coast of Africa. One surprise highlight of the trip was the giant chessboard one one of the resorts patios. A few of my friends on the trip played, and it was fun getting back into chess. Hopefully, we can track down a board over here soon and continue playing. Other than that, the sunshine, and consumption of mandarine oranges, chorizo on baguette sandwiches, and a few San Miguel beers highlighted the fact that many times, life’s simplest pleasures are its best. 

Though leaving the sunshine and beaches of Marbella was tough, I had another great trip to look forward to, this time to Cordoba. This was an IES planned trip, so we got comfy charter buses to Cordoba at the crack of dawn, and back to Granada the same evening. It was a great day trip. We started with a tour of some Ruins from the Umayyad Caliphate outside of Cordoba. It was a small city where the Caliph and other people of power lived, just outside of Cordoba, which was the capital at that point in history. After lunch, we toured the Great Mosque/Cathedral (like every church in Andalusia, it is an almost comical mix of Islam and Christianity), and I have to say, it is one of, if not the most, impressive building I have ever been in. The inside is filled with arches of a distinct style, one stacked on top of the other, with a color scheme of alternating brick-red and off white, due to the different materials used to construct the arches, brick and stone. The geometry of the architecture is very impressive as well. Not only do the arches line up vertically, but if you stand at an angle and look through one arch, they line up diagonally as well. Once again, I was blow away how a place of such architectural wonder could be constructed without calculators, computers, or power tools. I can only imagine all the work that occurred on parchment, abacuses, and finally the intense physical labor it took to construct the actual place. It was very impressive and something I will never forget. I plan on posting the pictures I took very soon. It was truly an architectural wonder, and with the Islamic architecture and a full cathedral under the same roof, I would venture to guess it is one of the only places in the world that can make you feel like you are in the Middle East and the heart of Europe at the same time. Truly amazing, unfortunately, upon returning to Granada, I learned that I had been rejected from the UN internship I was applying for, I had been cited for having a messy room by IES home-stay inspectors (a little strange, but I am supposed to keep my room clean), and that the ticket I was planning on buying for Carnival in Cadiz had already been sold. It was an unfortunate damper on a day of architectural and cultural wonder.

So now, as I finish this post, and many of my classmates are raging at unprecedented levels in Cadiz, I am left to ponder my earlier-that-expected return to Oxy, and more importantly, the process of self discovery that comes with being abroad. That has to be one of the corniest terms out there, and I feel only so-so about throwing it out there for this post. I remember hearing about the process of learning more about yourself (…didn’t want to use self discovery again, just did…damnit), and I thought it was all part of the sales pitch. What can be so different? What don’t I already know about myself? Well, about 5 weeks into the experience, I can honestly say that while Mufasa doesn’t come out of the clouds and ask you a bunch of questions that strip you bare, being in a different country, being out of your comfort zone, and in many ways, being alone, test your character in new ways. I find myself seeing some of my flaws more plainly, and being forced with the simple decision of letting them slide or addressing them. I want to be clear, this is not some super crazy, stuff-you-see-on-tv emotional experience, but it isn’t just part of the sales pitch either. I am doing my best to embrace the experience, and confront the challenges I did not foresee in January while I was comfortably posted on my couch watching ESPN. With luck, I will come out the other end of this experience a more complete person. And finally, for those rainy days that you encounter along life’s path in any circumstance, there are always the little things there to cheer you up. Today, it was the discovery of this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h5aSa4tmVNM

Enjoy.

Yesterday, I met a really cool Spanish guy that works at a cafe I frequent. I had seen this dude before, but never took the time to talk to him. Turns out I probably should have. This guy, who guys by Nano, was blasting some pretty cool hip hop in the cafe. It was slow, so I take it he was enjoying the downtime. I started chatting Nano up about hip hop, and the guy knew his stuff. He had a taste for underground stuff, some of which I knew, and some of which I did not, and the classics, specifically mentioning none other than the RZA, the GZA, ol dirty bastard, U God, Ghostface Killa, Inspekta Deck, Raekwon the Chef, Method Man, and whole Wu Tang Clan (I hate to brag but if you read that out loud you will see that my order flows, count it)! Nano also showed me some Spanish hip hop by this MC who goes by Johnny South. I could not really understand what Mr. South was spittin, but the guy could flow. Nano informed me that Johnny South was one of his best friends, and that they both grew up together in Cadiz. I took this opportunity to ask Nano about Carnival in Cadiz. He said it was really awesome, that he was going, and that I definitely should go, he then informed me of something I did not know about carnival. “You need a costume,” he told me (translated from Spanish). “What kind of costume?” I asked. “I am going as a cow, but you could be a priest, or a nun, or a pirate, you could be whatever.” What?! I did not know you needed a costume for this crazy Carnival party. It sounds to me, the more I learn about it, that Carnival in Cadiz is something like the illegitimate love child of Mardi Gras in New Orleans and Halloween in Santa Barbara, only little Carnival hated his parents, ran away to Europe, and decided to prove his worth by being way way more badass than both of his parents. Needless to say I am going.

I have been in Granada for a few weeks now, and I am starting to pick up on some local customs and cultural differences. One of these differences I experienced on the basketball court, and I found it nothing short of infuriating. There are definitely some decent players out here, but none of them know how to play defense, like, 0. No one. I never thought I would be over here griping about the defensive strategy of Spanish basketball. For anyone how has ever played basketball with me, you know my defensive philosophy is wave your arms around, pretend you care, get out in transition, and start trying to find a way to jack up a 3. But, low and behold, here I am half a world away feeling like Gary Payton on an old Loyola Marymount team: I MISS DEFENSE. Jesus, never thought I would ever say that. But it is so very true. I went out to a park to play pick up, and when I worked into the game the question was posed “hombre o zona?” which my years of studying Spanish helped me translate to “man or zone?” Well, this is a pick up game, no brainer right? I bark “hombre,” assuming we would go man just like I have in every pick up game I have ever played in my entire life. Nope. The Spaniards I am playing with look at me like I just seriously proposed playing zone in a pickup game back home. “No, zona.” And that was the consensus. Yup. They were gonna go zone. Well, forget ‘em. I played man while the rest of my teammates, with the exception of my buddy Ray from North Carolina, played what I have come to understand as customary Spanish defensive basketball. I saw it first hand in the defensive strategy of the other team. Essentially, everyone sags off everything on the perimeter, which meant in the beginning, I got to wap a couple freebees from long. Then, if you drive the middle, it is very likely all 5 defenders will collapse on you. No joke. Thus, if you have the presence of mind, it is prudent to either put up a long floater, which always gets you some style points, or make the smart move and look short corner, as a teammate, often my guy Ray, was almost always wide open due to the 5 man collapse. It was really something. Now that I know what I am facing, I am looking forward to dicing up the opposing teams zone on offense, and bringing some Americans with me so we can get up in some guys in man on defense. That’s right guys, soft, jump shooting Jack wants to get right up in somebody next time he is on the court, in fact, I relish the opportunity. Man, this trip is changing my personality more than I thought.

I do not have too much other news for this post. I am just starting to get over being sick, although I do have some lingering congestion. This ailment is pretty much my fault, as the consistent partying during orientation broke down my immune system, and many of my friends’ biological defenses as well. Being sick has gotten me into a little bit of a lazy schedule, and I am trying to break the cycle of being lazy during the day and then going out at night on weekends. I am still learning more and more about the city each day, and some of my late night adventures have taken me to new and exciting locations, one of which is noteworthy. Near Granada’s Plaza del Toros, the giant bullfighting stadium, there are many excellent bars. One in particular, the Nida del Buho, the owl’s nest, has awesome tapas that are big enough to be a meal, and a couple of really cute bar maids to boot. I have been there the last to nights, clearly. 

Personally, I would like to see myself get a little more active, both in terms of exercise and getting the initiative to do more things during the day. Other than that, I am enjoying each and every day here in Granada, where the extraordinary happens on a daily, very ordinary basis.

Today I walked home from class with a couple friends. Shortly before meeting them I purchased a pastry and orange juice to hold me over until lunch (Spaniards are not to big on breakfast). While waiting to cross the street, an older man approached, and proceeded to wait directly to my left. In Spanish with a thick accent, he explained (I will translate as best I can) “Juice is not good, it is only sugar and water. Here in Spain wine is better. Only wine, never juice.” I laughed and told him thanks for the help. It was 10 in the morning.

Much has happened since my last post. During this past week, we finished orientation and, and got better acquainted with the city. Although the language/vocabulary/grammar portions of orientation could drag on, IES did a great job of incorporating daily paseos (walks) into orientation, so everyday we saw more parts of the city, and began to get some kind of navigational foundation. While on the subject of navigation, I want to point out that there are some distinct differences here in Spain. In the US, I feel like most people have some basic concept of North, South, etc., and we incorporate it into how we give directions. Here in Spain, that is not the case, like, at all. They navigate mostly by landmarks, and when you do not have a firm grasp on the language, let alone the use of landmarks which you have never heard of, navigation can be difficult. Anyway, I digress. Over the course of the week we were able to gain a better understanding of the city, and outside of class, learn more about good tapas bars, discotecas, and just broadening social horizons in general. The best paseo that was organized during our orientation was a walk up to the Alhambra, Granada’s most famous monument, and a true Spanish national treasure. There were some parts we did not enter because you have to pay, but we did get to see some great architecture, some impressive grounds, and breathtaking views. Hopefully I can return soon, for either the full tour or just to enjoy the walk and the grounds again.

I have gotten to know many of the Americans in my program, and a few of the younger IES employees have been fun too. One in particular, my buddy Dario, has been really fun. He knows all the fun spots around the city, loves soccer (which i enjoy discussing and learning about), shares my enthusiasm for hip hop, and is just a good dude. I am hoping that through our friendship, I can meet more Spaniards and get some local knowledge about Granada that only comes from experts.

This past weekend, IES organized another excellent excursion for us. We departed early in the morning in three charter buses, and headed primarily west for Sevilla. We arrived in around noon, and I can honestly say I was blown away by what I saw. We began in the old palaces of Sevilla, which were the homes of both Muslim and Christian rulers. It was truly the most ornate architecture I have ever seen. The arches and walls were covered in tile and engraved patterns. I have never seen such a combination or art and architecture before, and I think I will be tested to find a site such as this again. Garden after garden, plaza after plaza, and arch after arch, we were continually astounded by the Islamic architecture that was once the norm through out Al Andulus. From there we continued to the Cathedral of Sevilla. Plain and simple the most impressive building I have seen. Huge vaulted ceilings. Shrines with articulately decorated altars which you had to arch your neck to take in. One of the other fascinating things about the cathedral was the combination of Christian and Islamic architecture. Much of the actual cathedral was built according to Christian traditions; laid out like a cross, the vaulted ceilings, and the many flying buttresses on the exterior portion of the cathedral (Mr. MIller I see you!). Other buildings, however, were clearly part of the Great Mosque of Sevilla, none more obvious than the enormous bell tower which must have been one of the largest Minarets around back in the day. In some ways, the seamless transition from Islam to Christianity in these buildings is comical. It is very much as if some Christian authority said “Well, this tower is really cool, but we can’t be singing from that bad boy anymore…I know! Let’s throw some bells in there, and put a statue of the virgin Mary on top. Perfect. Man I’m good.” Really though, thats what it seems like. As a group we were fortunate enough to ascend the tower and get a truly incredible view in all directions. I believe it was 35 or so stories up. I could not help contemplating how those architects and builders way back when figured that stuff out and actually built it. Like, no cranes, no electricity, no power tools, nothing. Horses, block and tackle, some labor that was probably pretty expendable, and livestock. Blows my mind right now writing about it. Our evening consisted of a rented bike ride along the Guadalquivir river, which runs through the center of Sevilla, and tapas at a great bar. Got some lovely sandwiches for pretty cheap.

Now the fairy tell ends. As charming and lovely as Sevilla was at night, I had a generally bad time at night. The first factor was that we ran into a lot of American students, many of which seemed generally more standoffish than those in Granada (later i noticed this standoffishness extended in part to the locals as well). At the bar we were at, we all agreed that there was a noted tension in the air, and I felt on edge for the duration of our stay. In fact, we only stayed because they were slinging Heinekens for 1 euro; hard to pass up. After that, we made our way to a club where I witnessed one of the more outlandish episodes in recent memory. At this particular club, the bouncers were checking to make sure people were dressed well. I had some decent clothes, so I was allowed to enter. My friend, who was dressed much like I was, however, was not granted entrance because of the sneakers he was wearing. This began a 45 minute fiasco which involved another friend giving up his topsiders and passing them to Mr. Sneakers, and then going back into the club barefoot, some heated exchanges with the bouncers, and multiple shoe swap attempts, misunderstandings, and linguistic conundrums. Fortunately, he was able to leave with some friends, and I decided to enter the club. The layout was impressive. Three floors, each one progressively more loud, crazily lit, and generally insane. Unfortunately my friend and I found it difficult to work in with the club goers. At one point, my buddy got something going with a 28 year old Irish school teacher. I was proud of him, but as I continued my endeavors to meet some of the people at the club, it eventually became clear that I was not a fortunate. The night ended in a very appropriate fashion. My friend briefly left the club to get in touch with the Irish girl. While I waited at a booth, two Spanish dudes approached me with mock excitement, indicating for high fives. I granted their request, only to be surprised by a brief bite on the shoulder from the second Spaniard. As my mind raced to process what had happened, the peculiar Sevillanos had disappeared, and I was left grasping for answers. When my friend returned, he informed me that upon calling his new friend from the Emerald Isle, he ran out of minutes on his phone, thus essentially ending his night. The icing on the cake was the self righteous American girl at the coat check who lectured us on how we were giving Americans a bad name, and ruining what I gathered to be her attempt to smooth over any rough patches that could possibly exist in Spanish American relations. This made me laugh, and then we left. Awesome.

The next day we hopped on our beloved charter buses, and headed for Ronda. Upon arriving, we discovered it was, in comparison to Sevilla, little more than a village. Never the less, Ronda had a lot to offer. We were informed that Ronda has a rich tradition of bullfighting, and we got a full tour of the city’s bullfighting ring, or Plaza del Toros. This was very impressive, and the combination of our tour guides’ knowledge and the small museum at Plaza del Toros gave us an in depth look at Spain’s famous blood sport. Ronda also offered incredible terrain geological features. A huge gorge ran through the middle of the town, with a bridge traversing it. Once again, this bridge made me think a lot about how such incredible feats of engineering and architecture were possible back in the day. Staring into the depths of this gorge, or out onto the vast landscapes beyond was probably the most relaxing experience of the weekend trip if not my entire trip thus far.

We returned to Granada Saturday evening very tired, but like good college students, we still all managed to go out that night. Woohoo! The next day was Sunday, Super Bowl Sunday. We went to a sports bar that evening and began watching soccer, and as the night progressed, more and more Americans began to trickle in, until finally, at 12:30 am Monday morning, the game started. This has probably been the most difficult time adjustment for me this far, and it was hard to miss the Super Bowl, but I had my first day of class the next morning, which began 5 hours from when I left the bar…In the 3rd quarter! That was a bummer, and as the highlights demonstrated, it appears that I missed a close game.

I am going to end this post here, I meant to finish it a long time ago, but so far this week, the news has been a bit more bland. I have started classes, some fascinating some not so much, and due to the toll I have demanded from my body and my immune system, I am now fighting off nasty bit of sickness. But I cannot complain. This malady was born out of my own irresponsibility, and in some ways, it is probably the most effective tool for learning how to pace myself through a week that I have encountered while in Spain. No matter, I am in Spain, and this place is more Plvs Vltra (which my keen linguistic skills inform me translates to something along the lines of Mo Betta) than I ever could have imagined.

I recently had a solid discussion with young Spaniard about hip hop. He was into so really intellectual underground groups, some of which I had heard of, like Jedi Mind Tricks and Immortal Technique, and some of which I had not. He proceeded to explain that he was not as into the mainstream hip hop scene. As he explained “the gangsters, the money, es tonto en Granada, (its stupid in granada, it doesn’t make sense). Who are gangsters in Granada? Nobody. If there are they probably listen to flamenco. It’s true.”

I have been away from home for a week now; in Spain for 6 days, in Granada for 5. It has been a really awesome experience thus far. I am beginning to see that the Spanish way of life is very different than what I have become accustom to as normal growing up in the States. First and foremost, stuff happens late here, I mean real late. Weeknights its very easy to go out for tapas as your third meal around 10pm, and stay out until 12 or 1. And that is not late, not even close. On the party nights, which are hard to articulate from every other night but for our purposes we will say they are thursday and saturday, it goes down all night, no joke. On saturday I arrived at a club with some friends around 1:30 and we were clearly early. The place started to pick up around 2:30, and when I proceeded to leave at 5:45am, I was in no way shape or form the last die hard crawling out of the place. Not even close. But there is also a certain civility to how people party here that is really refreshing. It can honestly be said that most people here drink beer and wine with their tapas to enjoy the drink and experience, not just to race to intoxication. It is definitely something I can take away from this experience, and something many college aged kids I know should be exposed to.

The experience so far has not been limited to just Granada and urbane settings. We were fortunate enough to take a 5 mile hike in the Sierra Nevada mountains, and the views and terrain were absolutely stunning. They blew me away, and I am fortunate enough to come from a state where we have mountains. I cannot begin to imagine how the kids from New Jersey felt. It was an interesting hike, and definitely a legitimate one, complete with scary drop offs, poor and eroding trails, and some serious elevation gain at the end. We took our lunch break at the top of a large hill, or small mountain, with a views for miles. Snow capped mountains, 1400 year old towns built into hill sides, and highways that meandered through the Sierra Nevada for distances that appeared to be infinite. The icing on the cake was our guides. Close your eyes for a second and picture a European mountaineer. Bright jacket? Tan, weathered skin? And most importantly, large reflective sunglasses? That’s our guy, to a T. It is difficult to describe but I am sure you get the picture.

On Sunday evening I attended mass at one of the larger churches in Granada. It was a great chance to slow down, relax and reflect. It was also a gripping opportunity to check out some serious architecture. Twin bell towers, large interior arches, and perhaps the largest and most ornate altar I have ever seen. And despite these architectural wonders, I will remember most clearly the priest’s homily. From what I could understand, which was limited, he spoke about “el pobre del espiritu,” the poor   (or poverty) of spirit, and how this was the most tragic of all poverty, more so than lack of possessions or money. It really hit home for me, coming only 12 hours after returning from the club, I hoped that in my effort to enjoy my youth and make a few mistakes out here, I don’t lose sight of a more grounded life path. Am I saying I’m never hitting the club again and will go to church every day? Absolutely not. But I hope that I can remain grounded, respect myself, respect my new friends here, and not get caught up in trying to fill every moment with a fiesta. Despite this country’s beauty, it is a good place to lose one’s religion.

I was fortunate enough to sit next to a Spaniard on my flight from Philadelphia to Madrid. His name was Carlos, and he was only a few years older than me, so I chatted him up about typical young guy stuff, you know, like sports, girls, and brew. We were talking about the different ethnic groups and Spain, and the conversation drifted towards discussing gypsies. He told me, in strong but imperfect English, essentially what follows: “Gypsies are ok. You talk to them, they play flamenco and they are like o we are so smart, and maybe you end up paying whole check or are like hey where is my watch?!” Just one man’s humble opinion on gypsies.

So far the journey has been interesting. Currently, I am so tired its ridiculous. I am falling asleep writing this. After essentially a whole day of travel beginning Monday and ending Tuesday afternoon, we got to spend the night in Malaga. We had IES guides walk us to downtown, and then they let us split up and get food. I got Tapas with four other students from all over the country, and we all came to a similar conclusion about our shared meal: there is no possible way this is actually real. There is no way we are ordering drinks and tapas from a bar in a cozy alley only a stone’s throw from Malaga’s cathedral (easily the biggest church I have ever seen and perhaps the only time I have been truly vexed by a building’s size). It felt like we were on a movie set or something. After some broken sleep, we had orientation sessions at our hotel in Malaga, then got on charter buses and headed North for Granada. Upon arrival in Granada, we unloaded our luggage, and waited for our host mom’s to come pick us up. I was greeted by Marivi and her son Louis, and we walked a short distance to her apartment, which will be my residence for the next four and a half months. It is a transcontinental, linguistic adventure that I find myself in, but Marivi is very kind and has a great sense of humor, so I think we can laugh our way through me butchering her beautiful native tongue. For now that is all, but there is much to come. Stories of food and drink. Stories of chance encounters and nights that last until sunrise. Stories of linguistic struggle and cultural growth. Stories of on kid’s futile struggles to get a handle on the vastly different culture of a country in which he is now a resident (literally was half asleep while typing these last few lines, enjoy the grammar of a semi conscious ramblings of an exhausted foreign exchange student).

I looked at this post the next day and was going to edit it for grammar. I made one change, but decided to leave the rest as is, and in its grammatical impurity, perhaps it can convey how purely exhausted, mentally and physically, when I wrote this last night. Enjoy.

The other day in church, an elderly gentleman shook my hand, and asked “Can I use you on the foredeck?” I looked at him, very confused, but he was unfazed. Continuing to shake my hand, he exclaimed “You’re beautiful.” We finished our handshake, I smiled and thanked the man, and continued with mass. Upon turning around, I heard the man say “Oh my stars.”

In other news, I will be departing for Spain in a week, studying in Granada for spring semester. There are a lot of people who I would like to keep in touch with while I’m gone, and while this will not be the entirety of my communication stateside, I think it will be a good way to share some experiences and anecdotes. For me, it will be fun to come back and look at what I share; the good, the bad, and the ugly. 

As far as what to expect, it’s pretty wide open. I know that Granada has free tapas. I know Spaniards, young and old, rage all night. I know the family I am staying with consists of an older woman and her two sons, ages 24 and 29. I know there are 9 kids from Occidental in the program. I know I have a list of names of every kid in the program, along with where they go to school and where they are from. That’s about it. I hope to fill in all the blanks, and put faces to the list of names. I hope my host family is cool, and that I can enjoy what is supposed to be a beautiful city. I hope I can triumph where Boabdil surrendered.