La lluvia en Sevilla es una maravilla...

I can't believe I only have one more month left here in Sevilla.  As cliche as it sounds, this has truly been the fastest semester of my life.  Since I last blogged, Sevilla had it's annual Semana Santa (Holy Week) in which there should have been several processions featuring ornate floats of gold, images of Jesus and Mary, and Nazarenos (men dressed in KKK-like outfits).  Unfortunately, the weather was not in our favor, and I failed to see a single procession.  It was constantly raining, and honestly, a bit depressing.  As a result, my senora Mercedes was constantly singing, "La lluvia en Sevilla es una maravilla," (The rain in Sevilla is a marvel).  I was close to seeing two processions -- one in Trinidad and the other in San Marcos, but Trinidad ended prematurely due to the rain and San Marcos did not even start due to the forecast of a torrential downpour.  It was so disappointing.  I was only able to to see a marching band and cross, but no floats.  One of the most notable processions during La Madruga (Holy Thursday) is in La Macarena and features an extremely old image of the Virgin Mary.  Although, I wasn't able to see any processions, it was nice to have the week off of school.

Most recently, I have been seeing some very interesting sights in Sevilla.  Today, as I was reading the newspaper on the metro, I came across a section titled "Machismo."  I couldn't believe it; only in Spain or a Latin American country would that be its own separate section.  I've noticed that Spaniards are huge fans of graphic tees, particularly those in English.  Since very few Spaniards actually know English, I often wonder if they understand the meaning behind the words plastered across their chests.  For instance, today I saw a shaggy-haired, nerdy-looking teenage/young adult Spaniard wearing a t-shirt that said, "Andalusians do it better."  If he understand what this English phrase meant, I would be impressed.  Now, if he were to actually be lucky with the ladies, I would be even more impressed.

Two days ago, I went to my first and most likely last bullfight (corrida de toros).  Sevilla's bullfighting stadium is one of the most renowned in the world.  The structure itself was extremely impressive and regal.  Their bullfights are the equivalent to our Kentucky Derby.  It was even complete with men smoking several cigars, of which I got a few too many whiffs.  Men and women attend the event sporting their finest attire.  I witnessed the slaughtering of 6 bulls that day.  As hard as I tried to see the art in the act of taunting and killing each bull, it simply seemed barbaric and sad.  One bull even tried to hide and get out of the ring; he had no desire to partake in this game.  The best part of the bullfight was probably the outfits the corredores (i.e. matadors) were wearing.  They were exactly as I had pictured them -- items from Liberace's late 80's collection.  They were flamboyant, tight-fitting, and all around the loudest pieces of clothing I have ever seen a straight man wear with a serious face.

Recently, I went to Rinconcillo, the oldest bar in Sevilla.  My first visit to this wonderful establishment was on Easter Sunday.  It was packed with Spaniards, and simply "looked Spanish."  Machismo was in the air.  Five minutes into being there, a fight broke out between two men over a woman.  One man was sporting a striped button down, while the other wore a button down shirt with a sweater over his shoulders.  Watching two men fight on Easter was not only appalling, but it was difficult to take the fight seriously considering they were wearing pastels.

Classes are finished for the week, and I have yet another vacation from school.  This upcoming week is Feria de Abril full of casetas (private parties) in Los Remedios, Sevillanas dancing, flamenco dresses, and rebujitos for all.  I cannot wait for the festivities begin!  Besos!

Welcome to Africa

Visiting Morocco involved being inundated in a culture drastically different from my own.  It was a mix of Arabic, French, English, and Spanish with an abundance of colorful spices and herbs.  Women wearing a hijab, niqāb, and burqa were prevalent amongst the locals.  The British tourists stood out with their bare arms and legs.  We, as students, stood out with our "American" looking faces with a tour guide who spoke Spanish to us.  My first trip to Africa was culturally rich and thought provoking.  

The Marrakech marketplace was a Mecca for all things fake and leather.  They sold every designer knockoff purse, sunglasses, belt, and wallet that you could think of.  Another common knockoff was soccer jerseys.  A few of us were given an unofficial tour by a man named Achmed who worked in the restaurant's hotel.  He showed us where the artisans crafted their leather goods, wooden goods, and metal work.  Being in the marketplace could be a bit overwhelming.  There were vendors and people shopping everywhere.  Each stall was filled with a sea of color whether it was scarves, shoes, leather goods, knock off bags, jewelry, food, or spices.  The atmosphere was loud and vibrant.  It was a maze of stalls, and I never quite knew where I was.  The freshly squeezed orange juice for 10 dirham (equivalent to about 1 euro) was the best buy there.  The vendor would squeeze the orange juice right then and there.  It was so refreshing considering the blazing Moroccan sun that gave everyone a nice tan or slight burn.

On our first day in the market, a few of us made friends with a Moroccan Architectural Engineering student who was working at his uncle's spice and herb shop.  He gave us free samples of the most delicious tea I have ever had in my life.  It consisted of not only green tea and Moroccan mint tea, but 8 other different herbs too. Our new friend's English skills were impeccable.   He said he was self-taught; he read books written in English and Arabic.  How this Berber college student had learned English so well with little trace of an accent simply by reading blew me away.  It only strengthened my belief in the fact that the United States needs to do a better job of teaching today's youth a second or third language.  

On our second day in Morocco, we took an official tour of the city center.  Following some free time where we explored the market some more and had lunch, we went on a camel ride.  I named my camel Amir.  He was such a well-behaved camel!  On our 1.5 hour long camel ride, we saw two major extremes of socio economic status -- shanty towns across from gated mansions.  It was so sad to see people living in such extreme poverty.  Their skin and hair was dirty, and they had a look of desperation in their eyes.  I wondered if they looked at the ostentatious gated mansions across from their meager homes and felt that they had been given the short end of the stick; they would never be able to do anything in life that would allow them the luxury of living in such a house.  I hope that they were happy with their living situation, and that they can find happiness in non-material things, but it still didn't seem right to build one's mansion across from people who could never afford such a home.  I felt like the rich people were taunting the poor ones.  Halfway through our camel ride, we stopped at a person's home who served us Moroccan tea, bread, and olive oil.  They played live music and some people in my program even danced along.  The children we saw playing yelled at us "No foto!"  We believe that they were probably told by their parents to say that in an attempt to not exploit their people.  

On Sunday (our third day there), we had a windy journey up to the mountains.  I never get car sick or have motion sickness, but something about driving up extremely windy roads changed all that.  I felt sick to my stomach and my head felt like it wasn't on straight.  It was such an odd feeling.  Our first stop on the uncomfortable car ride was at our tour guide's family home.  This Berber home housed his mother, several other women, men, and children.  I played with several of the children, but one little girl stood out to me in particular.  She wanted to see my purse and its contents.  However, the thing that stood out to her the most was my umbrella.  She pushed the button to open it, and was amazed.  It was like a toy to her, and as she played with this simple object, my heart broke a little to see what little she had.  I had to give it to her.  She had the prettiest cappuccino colored skin with warm brown hair.  She was a girly girl with henna colored fingernails.  Maybe I was drawn to her because she reminded me of myself as a little girl playing, being cheerful, and wanting to play dress up.  Their humble home had a room for the cows and an outdoor clay shower.  They served us Moroccan mint tea that was delicious.

After our break for tea, we got back in our vans, and continued up the endless windy roads of the mountains. We stopped in a village with a stream running through the middle of it.  Small, outdoor restaurants lined the stream.  In order to cross the stream, we had to cross a bridge that did not look structurally sound.  It literally consisted of large sticks stuck to two pieces of rope -- no railing or anything.  The hike was strenuous.  We had to climb up large rocks.  At one point, we had to use a ladder to get up a cliff, where a man had to pull us up in order to climb up the next large rock.  It was unlike any hike I had ever been on.  Along the way, some of us stopped to climb this beautiful tree.  It kind of looked like a large bonsai tree.  I almost opted out of the hike because I was feeling so sick from the car ride, but I'm glad that I forced myself to do it; we saw several beautiful views of the mountains and the village below.

After our hike, we scrambled around the market to buy last minute souvenirs and gifts.  I found bargaining in the market kind of fun after a while.  The vendor quotes a ridiculous price, and I quote a price less than half of that price, and we go from there.  It was annoying when we would ask how much something was, and then they would ask us how much we wanted to pay.  

As we walked through the city center and in the market, men would quote dowry prices for us.  My first experience with this, was when we were walking to the market, and a horse carriage driver yelled, "3,000 camels for each of you!"  However, my best "offer" was 1/2 million camels.  It was amusing more than anything else.

Our final dinner in Morocco was at an eclectic restaurant overlooking the market place.  It was a great view of the city, and there was live music.  I ordered some type of pastilla, which the waitress explained to me in broken Spanish was pasta.  However, this was not the case.  Instead, it was a patty of meat and vegetables in a sweet sauce.  It wasn't my favorite Moroccan dish, but it was decent.  I always prefer my entrees to be salty rather than sweet.  I like to save the sugar for dessert!

My first trip to Africa made me appreciate my life so much more.  It forced me to see extreme poverty, and made me want to do more to help people less fortunate than myself.  It was an incredible trip of learning, humility, and exposure to a different way of life.

A Very Spanish Weekend

Friday was Sevilla's kickoff to Spring with its Fiesta de Primavera.  There were three botellones; a botellon is basically a tailgate without the end event.  My American friends Vicky and I met Vicky's intercambio Macarena and her Spanish friends at one of these botellones.  One friend of Macarena's particularly stood out to me.  Her name is Clara and she goes to the University of Sevilla and is studying Public Relations.  Clara and Macarena are childhood friends.  However, last year, Clara moved into an apartment in La Macarena with her fraternal twin brother.  This is good news for me because I now have a Spanish friend who lives in La Macarena!  The botellon was filled with cars blasting music and young people eating and drinking.  However, as we all know, many young men tend to get aggressive when they have had too much to drink.  Fast forward to around 7:30 P.M. when fights start to break out.  We left as soon as the fights started.  That whole scene however wasn't really my idea of fun, and after just a few hours there, I was very ready to leave.

Following leaving the scene of drunken idiots, we began to walk towards what we thought was the city center.  Instead however, we wound up in the outskirts of Triana by the construction of some sort of park.  There was this crazy guy standing on a large pile of rocks yelling things in incoherent Spanish.  As we continued walking, we noticed that he had jumped over the guardrail where we were walking and was chasing after us.  We ran!  I had no idea I was capable of running, but I guess when the adrenaline kicks in, you can do anything.  After running for a good five minutes, he stopped following us.  We quickly asked for directions to the nearest metro stop.

We went to Vicky and Kara's apartment so they could change.  We met their Senora;  coincidentally, her name is Victoria as well.  Victoria also has a daughter named Victoria.  They often do that here -- name their children after themselves (e.g. Mercedes has relatives named Macarena and Luca.  Their children are named Macarena and Luca).  Victoria was such an outgoing elderly woman.  She told us that we were young and needed to enjoy our lives now because we are in the prime of our lives.  I agree.

After leaving their apartment, we went to dinner.  After dinner, was when the fun really started.  We went to a club in Los Remedios called Goa.  We had to go through the casetas, the tent-like structures/fairgrounds for Feria (a huge Sevillano holiday that lasts one week in April).  The club itself seemed to be in the middle of nowhere.  We had to go through a set of gates and walk five minutes down this road before arriving at this lone-standing club.  The inside of it was amazing and the music was great.  Vicky and I were the only Americans there.  We were also severely under-dressed, but we didn't care.  It was one of the best nights I've had in Spain.  We spent the night speaking solely in Spanish.  Macarena and Clara taught us "frases hechas" or colloquialisms.  Vicky and I taught them colloquialisms in English.  Friday was such an amazing night!

On Saturday, I went to el Museo de Bellas Artes during the day.  I saw several amazing pieces of art by several famous Spanish artists.  That night, I met with my intercambio Carlos, as well as Kara and Vicky and her intercambio Macarena.  We went to Alameda, the alternative scene of Sevilla.  Then, we went to the International Cerveceria where we each tried a new beer.  Vicky had a strawberry-flavored Belgian beer and Kara and I tried the same strawberry-flavored German beer.  Macarena had a cherry-flavored German beer. Carlos had a Guinness, which is fitting since he will be studying abroad in northern Ireland next year.  It's always nice to get together with our intercambios and practice our Spanish.  We're able to teach each other words we don't know in each other's respective languages and to gain a better understanding of each other's cultures.  Vicky and I are lucky to have such wonderful intercambios.

Sunday morning, one of my roommates, Jackie, and I went to a large outdoor market in Parque Alcosa, almost an hour away from our house.  The most commonly sold good there -- underwear.  There was literally underwear being sold at every other stand.  It was insane.  There were so many people there.  Anything you could think to buy was sold there-- bags, shoes, electronics, clothes, fresh produce, jewelry, and even flamenco dresses.  The one thing they did not have however was linen pants or pants, which Jackie and were desperately trying to find for Morocco.

Tomorrow, I'm meeting my other intercambio Alba for the first time by the river.  I also register for my Fall classes tomorrow.  Back to reality in the Fall with my last year in college (eek!) and the LSAT (double eek!).

I am so excited for this long weekend in Morocco!  I'm sure it will be an exhilarating experience with all the new sights and smells.  I am 99% sure that I will return looking like burnt toast as I am already currently pretty bronzed from all the sun here.  It's supposed to be in the upper 80's and low 90's while we're there.  Bring it on, Africa!

Forget Me Not -- Sevilla's Most Memorable People

Sevilla never ceases to amaze me.  Each day, I'm welcomed by the scent of the flowers blooming on the orange trees that line the city streets.  The weather has been amazing this week -- sunny and in the low 70's.  More and more people my age are spending their days by the Guadalquivir reading, eating, drinking, smoking, and since it's Spain, kissing.

With Sevilla as the backdrop to my semester, I have met several amazing and often unique people.  The following are the most memorable.

My host mom (Senora) Mercedes is always amusing.  We teach her English words, some appropriate, others not so much.  She is always making jokes and is a far better Senora than I ever could have asked for.  When I was sick with the flu and strep in February, she would come into my room to check on me.  She made me freshly squeezed orange juice and even checked my temperature.  She is so sweet!  Needless to say, after having had exchange students for the past 22 years, she is a pro.  Mercedes has two daughters, Susana and Ana Laura.  Susana is married and has two children.  She lives in a pueblo outside of Sevilla.  Ana Laura on the other hand is 22 years old, which yes, if you do the math, means that she has grown up living with study abroad students.  I feel like this would be an extremely interesting and unique way in which to be raised.

International Marketing is by far my favorite class.  My professor, nicknamed Nano, is hilarious.  His family owns olive farms, which he manages.  He grew up going to boarding schools, and completed his undergrad and graduate studies at Michigan State University, so he is fully aware of the American lifestyle.  His commentary on American society and politics is always interesting to me.  (On a side note, I am really enjoying hearing what Spaniards have to say about our American way of life and our politics.  It's a fresh take on something to which I think we often become numb.)  Nano tells hilarious stories.  He also has wonderful connections, one of which is with someone who works for Cruzcampo.  I am one of forty lucky people who will be going on the Cruzcampo Factory Tour in April.  The verdict on this profe -- a big boy in a little boy's body.  He's probably in his mid 40's and has a live-in girlfriend.  I know that people aren't as quick to jump into marriage in Spain as in the U.S., since their society is a bit more secular, but assuming she's around the same age as Nano, don't you think this woman is wondering when she's getting a ring on that finger?

Another interesting professor of mine is Jesus.  He is currently working on his Ph.D.  How do I describe Jesus?  If you can imagine the stereotypical Spaniard with somewhat long, wavy hair, then that's Jesus.  He said he should be finished completing his doctoral program in about a month.  This is exciting news for his American students because he told us he's taking us out for beers to celebrate.  I have a classmate who can't wait to shock his mom when his status is, "Getting beers with Jesus!"  Jesus is a bit of a smart alec.  I can't think of anything he said specifically to back up this statement, but it keeps things interesting.  The biggest problem with his class is that 50% of the time I cannot understand his thick accent and I can't read his handwriting.  He probably has the worst handwriting out of any teacher I have ever had.  This can make learning International Finance very difficult because 1. It is Finance. and 2. It is Finance.  As I am reminded by my Spanish professors all the time, Spaniards like to go out and have a good time, so don't be surprised if you see a professor out on the weekend.  This statement was certainly made true when I ran into Jesus in Barcelona by La Sagrada Familia.  Of all people to see in a huge, metropolitan city, I run into my Finance professor!  We both did a double take before I said, "Jesus?"  He too was in Barcelona for the day enjoying the sights.  I will make sure to update everyone upon Jesus's successful completion of his Ph.D.  :)

I also have a British professor who I don't know quite as much about.  He failed to give the first day spiel introducing himself (i.e. talk about his schooling, why he's living in Spain, etc.).  So, can you blame me that I'm intrigued?  He is my Global Economy professor, and is extremely passionate about what he teaches.  On Tuesdays and Thursdays, he teaches from 9 to 9.  How he does it, I have no idea.  That's a lot of talking.  He randomly breaks out in song sometimes.  So far, we've heard a few lines of "Highway to Hell" and "Thriller."  My mother will appreciate this one.  One day, I wore this necklace made with ribbon and beads.  He told me it looked like British folk dancers in the North who wear these necklaces and dance with handkerchiefs in their hands.  He said everyone thought they were silly, which I took to mean my necklace looked silly.  Regardless, I guess Jonathan (or as Vicky and I have nicknamed him, J. Pass) and my mom would both agree that this particular necklace looks odd.  My mom says it makes me look like a reindeer.  I am going to have to disagree with both of them.

Marco is a five year old boy who lives in the apartment above us.  He is adorable.  He came over before dinner yesterday and showed me his book of stickers.  We watched Bob Esponja.  His favorite character is Bob Esponja (Sponge Bob) himself.  Marco's parents are divorced, so he splits his time between his mom and dad's apartments in La Macarena.  I told Marco that I have a really cute four year old sister back in the States.  He gave me a blank stare, haha.  I guess he's not into girls yet, which is good, but no worries, Marco.  I will be looking you up in sixteen years.

I am so fortunate to have an amazing program.  There are 83 other Americans in API Pablo de Olavide.  It's so funny how at the end of the night, we all end up at the same place.  I have met people from all over the country -- California, Idaho, Maine, New York, New Jersey, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Virginia, Tennessee, South Carolina, Rhode Island, and a slew of other states that I'm sure I missed.  I am certain that I've made lifelong friends.  It's going to be hard to leave many of them in two months...

I am already having anxiety about leaving this beautiful country and its equally beautiful people.  Not to get too sidetracked, but people say Andalusians are the prettiest people in Spain.  This statement has my stamp of approval.  Walking on the street, riding the bus or the metro, or just sitting at a cafe are all made more enjoyable by the sheer number of attractive men that I see on a daily basis.  This is shallow; I know, but it's true!  The next logical step would be to get these men to talk to me versus the creepy ones who usually approach me.  I think this is a lost cause however, so instead, I will continue to simply admire their attractiveness from afar.  Going back to not wanting to leave, I don't want to leave all the amazing friends I've made here.  It will be a sad day when we all have to part ways, but I'm trying to think about it as little as possible.

On a lighter note, tomorrow is the kickoff to the Spring Festival.  I'm not exactly sure what this entails, but I guess I will find out.  I am also going with my friend Vicky to get my hair cut tomorrow.  It will be yet another test of my ability to communicate effectively with Spaniards.  I hope it turns out well! 

Welcome Spring!  We have all missed you greatly.  Enjoy the beautiful weather and all the blooming flowers. Un besito!

From Kentucky Bluegrass to Urban Streets Lined with Orange Trees

I'm about half-way through my semester abroad in Seville, Spain, and I'm just now starting a blog...typical.  I'm jumping on the bandwagon, and really have no idea what I'm doing, so bear with me.  This first entry will probably be long because I feel like I have to made up for my lack of blogging thus far.

Spain is absolutely beautiful.  Thus far, I've visited Barcelona and seen much of Andalucia.  However, anytime I leave Seville, I have a strong urge to go "home" to Seville.

It's odd to think that "home" is currently an apartment in the La Macarena part of Seville.  It's a neighborhood of windy streets, where middle-class families live.  When the weather is nice, people congregate outside  Plaza de San Marcos at the bars, while the children play soccer.  Although there are many tourists and American students studying abroad in Seville, you won't hear English spoken in La Macarena.  It's probably the most "Spanish" part of Seville.  Seville itself is the largest city in the Andalusian region of Spain.  It's more laid-back than Madrid and Barcelona, and the people are generally friendlier too.  However, the Andalusian accent is a thick one.  Amongst other things that often makes their speech difficult to understand, they often drop their s's.  I ask people to repeat things frequently because understanding what they say through their thick accents can often be difficult.  I think I'm getting better at understanding their Spanish through the rapid-fire speech and thick accents.  Hopefully, my competency with the language continues to improve.

My morning routine consists of waking up at 8 A.M. in order to make it to my 10:30 classes Monday through Friday.  From La Macarena, we have to take a bus to the metro, then take the metro to la Universidad Pablo de Olavide.  Despite the hour-long commute to and from school, I wouldn't trade living in La Macarena for anything.  I have an amazing host family that consists of my host mom, Mercedes and her 22-year old daughter Ana Laura.  Mercedes works as a cook, and has made us some of the most delicious food I've had in Spain.  Ana Laura is preparing for her exams this Summer to be a teacher.  She is one of the most studious people I have met.  I have three American roommates.  We're all in the same program (API), and we're lucky to have each other.

La Universidad Pablo de Olavide is one of three universities here.  La Universidad de Sevilla is the biggest university here.  The main campus where international students have their classes used to be an old tobacco factory, and was the inspiration for the opera Carmen.  It's a beautiful, historic school.  Pablo de Olavide on the other hand is a newer school whose architecture is less-than-stellar.  The third university, Menendez Pelayo, is basically a university just for international students.  Even though Pablo's architectural beauty may be lacking, I'm enjoying my classes for the most part and learning quite a bit too.

Some things I have found different/unique about Spain:
1.  They wear boots, winter coats, and scarves even when it's 73 degrees outside.  Fact: While waiting at the bus stop yesterday to go to Plaza de Espana, I was given weird stares for wearing a one-shoulder dress with leggings and flats because they were still all wearing their full-on Winter attire.
2. You can buy beer and wine at school.  Cruzcampo (owned by Heineken) is on tap.  Glasses of wine and tinto de verano (part red wine, part Kas) are also for sale before, after, or in between classes.
3. Everyone is dressed up all the time.  The only time you see people in sweats is when they are exercising.
4. It is not common to "eat/drink on the go."  I, however, cannot give this up.  When I am running late to school and eating a muffin on my way to the bus stop, I get odd stares.  Likewise, when I eat half of my bocadillo (sandwich on French bread) after International Finance, while walking to International Marketing, I also get weird stares from Spaniards.  Buying coffee "para llevar" (to go) is also an oddity.  Starbucks and some cafeterias will sell "to-go cups," but it's hard to come across for the most part.  Also, coffee here consists of espresso and milk, so just two small cups will make you jittery.
5. Tipping is neither expected nor required.
6. If you're a girl, get used to catcalls on a daily basis.  Sometimes they can be degrading, which no one appreciates, but I've learned to just ignore it.
7. Siestas are a nice excuse to take a nap when needed.  I don't generally take siestas here, which is probably surprising to many of you.  Instead, I would rather walk around the city and enjoy the sights.  There is so much to see and people watching here is especially good.
8.  There is A LOT of PDA.  By a lot, I mean people will be full-on making out against a wall.  This is the norm here, but it hasn't ceased to make me uncomfortable as I am walking down a street minding my own business.  The best was when we were sitting at el Torre del Oro and a couple was on top of each other making out.  A police car came down the road, stopped, and asked them to stop.  This was in broad daylight in a prime tourist spot.
9. Since they hang-dry their clothes, if it is raining for a week on end, your laundry will not get done.  Also, because of the hang-drying situation, get used to having saggy butt jeans.  I never realized the greatness of a dryer until my jeans didn't fit properly.
10. Milk and eggs are not refrigerated until opened.

Sorry for the long, first post.  I'm going to make a concerted effort to write shorter, more consistent blogs.  Hasta pronto!  Un beso.