Le due amiche in Italia

Sorry for the delay in posting, but hey; if nothing else I'm predictable. I've been really busy in the past few weeks (I only have 5 weeks left in Granada) and have had a hard time finding time to post. So that's why this is roughly a week late.

This weekend was my first weekend in Granada (without plans or guests) since the weekend before Morocco, which was the 9-11 of March. Despite the fact that I was travel weary and never wanted to see a plane or bus again, I really did want to visit Christina in Italy, so I did. First off, let me say that my new favorite "budget" airline is Vueling. Yeah, they aren't as cheap as RyanAir, but they let you choose your seat (hello emergency exit/abundant leg space) and they are overall more pleasant. They also fly to decent airports, including the little teeny one in Granada.

Before I get to what we actually did, I would like to begin with a story. You may remember that last year on spring break, the girls and I went (among other places) to Rome, and wanted to see the Sistine chapel, but ended up walking the perimeter of an entire country before realizing that the ticket office (and hence entry) had already closed. The next day was Ash Wednesday, so the only way into the museum involved waiting for roughly four or so hours in line. Already planning to be back this spring, Christina and I promised each other that we would return and see the Sistine Chapel.

Fast forward to February. Christina and I figured out a weekend we were both free, and I booked my ticket to fly into Rome and out of Pisa (she's studying in Siena, which is roughly between the two). I made sure to get an early flight, because we had to make it to the museum. A month later, I received an email from Vueling, saying something my flight had changed:

Basically, this meant that instead of getting to the Vatican by around noon, I would only just be taking off from Barcelona. Fail. Things got even more tense when I got to Barcelona and saw that my flight was delayed by an hour. I called Christina, knowing she would worry whether I told her or not, and she said that we'd make it. I would just have to take a taxi from Fumicino airport (the closest one to the city center, thank God) to the Vatican. My flight landed just before 3, and I made it to the taxi about 10 minutes later. Once in the car, I asked the driver how long it took to get to St. Peter's Square (the closest he could get me) and he said 40 minutes, but changed his answer to 30 when he saw the look on my face. 

And here is where I once again give props to European drivers. Last year in London, homeboy got us to Heathrow in record time (though he probably broke every speed limit doing it), and this guy got me to the Vatican in 25 minutes. Well done, sir. He even asked me if I knew the area and offered directions. I declined, because I knew where I was going and just didn't have time for that. 

So I ran across St. Peter's square, freaking out some Asian tourists and I'm sure making a fool of myself. Finally, I made it to the corner where Christina and I had agreed to meet, and we made it to the museum with less than 10 minutes to spare. We got our tickets, got into the museum, and saw the Sistine Chapel. It was absolutely gorgeous and amazing and so so so worth all the stress it took to get there. 

At this point, I was going to embed a video from facebook. Blogger, however, has gone through some 'upgrades' and doesn't like that so much, so I'm going to have to wait until tomorrow to upload it to youtube and then to here, with the pictures (I hope).

Anyways, after all that excitement we needed a snack, and got some Nutella crepes (both with roughly half a jar of the spread) to eat on our way to the Metro, to get to the bus that would take us to Siena. That was all normal, until I saw a guy wearing an IC tshirt on the bus. I didn't recognize him from anything, and I didn't talk to him, but it was still funny to see. 

We got to Christina's host mom's (Paola) house around 9:30 and she had a delicious dinner waiting for us. I think it involved some salad, some pasta, bread, and meat or something. Really I was exhausted and forgot to journal about the entire trip (fail.) so I don't remember all that well. 

The next day we had a delicious breakfast of fried eggs (over easy, not deep fried in olive oil like Spain's), cereal, and tea and headed out into the rain so I could see Siena. Despite the rain, I really liked it. Siena is a medieval city, because at one point (when other cities like Florence were become Renaissance cities) there was a huge outbreak of the plague and almost everyone died, so they didn't have the manpower (or money, I assume) to update the city. That's fine with me, because it's gorgeous. 

We saw many things, including Piazza del campo, il Duomo, a panoramic view from tower, and the torture museum. Christina also showed me a view of the city's 'contrada'  fountains. Each contrada is an area of the city, represented by an animal. There are: la torre (represented by an elephant), eagle, dolphin (or fish?), unicorn, and a lot more I can't remember. I think there are 17 in all. Each year in the summer, there is a horse race where all of the contradas compete. The winner gets all the glory, and according to Christina's host mom, the contrada's fountain will run with wine instead of water. I'm not entirely sure about that last part, because I have to focus so hard to understand Italian that I sort of miss out on important things, like sarcasm. 

We met up with one of Christina's friends (Emily) to go to the torture museum, which had some of the most morbidly creative things I've ever seen in my entire life. I literally never would have thought of half of the things in there, much less have put them to use! Let's just say I'm glad that I live in the 21st century. Since that really worked up our appetites ok, not so much, but it was lunchtime) we went out for kebabs then bought some wine, cheese, and bread at the supermarket and headed to Emily's apartment to eat. I also met some of her other friends, including one who goes to Ithaca. They were all super nice, and I had lots of fun hanging out with them. 

Sunday morning we got up early, and Christina took the train with me halfway to Pisa, to help me find the train I would have to switch to. I was really sad to leave, but I had an amazing time in Italy, and hope I can get back to Siena sometime soon. 

Also, I will post photos of this trip later. I went to put up a link, and realized that I hadn't actually uploaded them to facebook yet. My internet is being painfully slow, so it may not be until tomorrow or the next day. Ciao!

I'm baaack: Semana Santa in London

That's right ladies and gentlemen, I just spent the last week (or so) in London! It was weird and wonderful and I loved it. I hadn't realized just how much I missed London until I got there. Landing in Stansted, an airport I'm very familiar with, was super surreal, and the first thing I did (before catch my easybus) was get a pret sandwich, a Cadbury egg, and some peach tea, since that's not sold in Spain. And before I continue, I will warn you that I probably have to break this trip up into several posts, at least 2 but possibly 3 or 4. probably 3. I've written 34 pages in my journal about it, so we'll just see where it goes.

Hokay, so. I finally got into the city of London, topped up my Oyster, and checked into my hostel, which was in the London Bridge area. Once I had done that, I walked around Westminster, Piccadilly, Leicester, and Trafalgar. I forgot how crowded it was up there and was starting to lose my sanity when I saw a sign: "Mamma Mia! Tickets available for tonight's show" and I remembered that I wanted to see the Lion King. After a quick stop in Chinatown for a meat bun (just as weird and delicious as I had remembered) I ventured to Covent Garden and found the Lyceum Theatre, where the Lion King is showing. They didn't have a sign outside, but I went to the box office and they had 2 tickets left for that night's performance. One was super cheap, but really far back, and the other was more expensive than any other ticket I've bought in London, but still cheaper than Broadway, and I snagged it. More on that in another post (that way you can skip it, Andrea!)

On Saturday morning I woke up, and my hostel room was full. (Don't worry mom, I booked an all girls' hostel). Three of the girls, all of whom were on vacation from Philly, seemed pretty cool, but I had plans for the  day and headed off. After breakfast, I took the tube to Gloucester Road, to get some chai at Caffe Nero, and check out the IC London Centre. Sadly, the ICLC was closed for the day, so I walked to my old neighborhood. It was really strange to see it again- there was a new dry cleaners' and nail shop, and there were little differences that I found strange. I even walked up Gunterstone Road to our corner,  and saw that the dead plant on our old windowsill had been removed, and there were no longer orange curtains.

After that it was too cold to stay outside, so I wandered through the Victoria and Albert Museum, and the Natural History Museum. I probably looked like a total fool, doing all the interactive things at the latter, but I had fun. By the time I was done there, it was getting on in the afternoon and I decided to go to Tesco, to buy some water, creme eggs for the ladies back in Ithaca, and some snacks, so I wouldn't end up going and buying a late lunch and dinner. At some point, the Philly girls came back to the hostel room and invited me to go to dinner with them. We went to a really cool place just around the corner from the hostel, and I had some sort of filo dough pocket with veggies inside. It was really good, and I enjoyed eating dinner at a normal time (this whole Spain eating schedule is killing me).

On Sunday, I woke up to a church procession outside the hostel, and realized that I had most definitely slept through breakfast. Luckily, the Philly girls were planning on doing the same things I wanted to do, and since I was alone and they didn't really know how to use the Tube, we decided to hang out all day. We walked along the river to Tower Bridge, and got a very late brunch in a restaurant on the south bank. I had Shepard's Pie, one of the girls had bangers and mash, and the other two had Sunday roast. All of it looked/smelled/tasted amazing, and was perfect to start a long day of exploring. We walked around the outside of the Tower (they had plans to see it Monday) and then made our way to Embankment, so they could see all the stuff I had done the day before.

While in Leicester Square I bought a ticket to see Wicked, and then we went to Cool Britannia, a giant souvenir store that I knew about from the year before. After they finished their shopping, we ate lunch in Covent Garden, where I had the most massive sandwich I've ever seen. You'd think that a chicken caesar salad sandwich would be smallish, or at least 'lighter' fare. Nope. It had 3 pieces of bread, loads of lettuce, and practically an entire wheel of cheese. Needless to say, after that lunch we decided to take the stairs at Covent Garden instead of the elevators. There are 193 stairs in all, and their ridiculous to walk down. Props to anyone who's ever gone up them.

The next stop was Hyde Park, to take in some sun and walk off lunch. There were tons of roller skaters and also animals. We saw swans, ducks, and even some squirrels that people were trying to feed. We kept walking until we got to Kensington Gardens, and took a look at Kensington Palace. It was gorgeous, but in an understated way. It had a yes-I-rule-you-but-I'm-not-a-snobby-rich-person feel to it, which was nice.

Monday I actually made it to breakfast, and went to the ICLC to see Sarah, Bill, and Claire and also make use of Internet for which I didn't have to pay. It was very nice to see them all, and I was able to get all the info for my next adventure... the Harry Potter Studio Tour. That's a post unto itself, though, so you'll have to wait for it. The tour took up all of my afternoon, but I got back in time for dinner and the showing of The Hunger Games. I had watched it online with Christina when she came to Granada, but it was awesome to see it on a big screen, with high quality audio and video. The movie, like most others, wasn't on the same level as the book, but it was still very good.

Tuesday morning I went back to the ICLC (Claire told me to come as often as I liked for the Internet), then met Lee, a girl I worked with 2 summers ago, for lunch. We went to a cute place in Covent Garden, called Cafe Rouge. It's actually a chain, but I was impressed enough with my steak baguette and French fries that I didn't care. After walking and talking for a while, we got on the subject of American candy, and how much I missed Reese's. She took me to a store that sold all American goodies. I bought some Reese's eggs and a Reese's bar (they didn't have plain cups), Barq's root beer, and chocolate covered pretzels. Like many other things, pretzels are missing from Spain.

Pretty soon Lee had to go, so I met my friend Becca, who is studying at the ICLC, to go get some Ben & Jerry's. Normally I would refuse to pay the exorbitant price of European B&J's, but it was Free Cone Day, so we gave in. I had, as usual, Cherry Garcia, and enjoyed every bite. It's too bad they can't have free cone day more than once a year...

That night I went and saw Wicked, then went out with the Philly girls, as it was their and my last night in London. Wednesday morning was momentous, as I met Ellie and Jen, who both worked at Camp Q with me,  for coffee and hangout time. Jen had to get back home early, but I went with Ellie to her house in Birchington (about an hour and a half train ride from London) and stayed there until Saturday. Her parents and grandma were super super nice, and it was really fun to stay there.

Before we did anything on Thursday, Ellie and I went to the bus stop to get Ellie's American cousin, Rhyan, from the bus stop. Rhyan is an au pair in Germany, and she had a 2 week break, so she was visiting her relatives then going to Dublin. The three of us went to Quex House, a stately home near Ellie's, which also houses a museum. The man who lived there in the late 19th century went on frequent hunting trips to Africa, and brought back his kills to be stuffed. There was even a suit (really like a safari outfit) he was wearing when a lion attacked him. It's all ripped up in the back, where the pinned him down. Apparently, He survived because a)the people he was with beat the lion off him fairly quickly, and b) a folded map or something in his pocket kept the lion's claws from piercing his heart.

Friday morning, we had hot cross buns (Andrea- these were way better than the ones you bought) for breakfast, which is apparently a Good Friday tradition. The cross, I found out, is made of a flour and water paste, not sugar as we who went abroad last year thought. They were delicious, and soon after eating them we  dropped Rhyan at the bus station and went to Canterbury, which is nearby.

Canterbury, I must say, was super cool. Ellie said it was the nearest 'big city' but it definitely had that small English village feel. We wandered around, got milkshakes (Ellie's was skittles flavored!! ) and saw the Cathedral. Normally, you have to pay to go inside, but we were wandering around when we saw a door, which was open and didn't say 'no entry' or anything like that, so we went in. Before we knew it, we were inside the actual cathedral. We even got to see the spot where St. Thomas was murdered while praying.

Friday night we went to the birthday party of Ellie's best friend's little sister, which was very fun. I got to meet all of her friends from home, and was almost convinced by one of them that he was Irish. I figured it out soon enough, but Ellie lovingly made fun of me for it until the moment I left on Saturday.

By noon on Saturday I was back in London, and had checked into a different hostel, this time in Bayswater. It was really weird and I will say that I was glad to only have to stay there one night. After walking around the city one more time (and I mean walking- I went on foot all the way from Bayswater to Westminster) and seeing Chicago, I was more or less ready to head home. I was in the hostel lobby, when a group of guys walked in. They were using the computers too, and one of them, after a few minutes of chatting with his friends in what I think was Finnish, asked me if I spoke English. I said yes, of course, and he asked me a couple of questions about what I was doing in London.

After a few exchanges, he smiled and said 'Wow! Your English is amazing!'  I honestly think I sat there with a blank look on my face, before I recovered from the shock of that statement and managed to say "Well, I'm from America". He replied that he and his friends thought I was from Spain, because they looked at the tag on my backpack and saw my Granada address. I pretty much logged off and headed upstairs right then. I mean, I'm sure my friends and I would totally pull something like that, but never in a million years would we admit it to the other person! Ugh. Creepy.

Sunday morning I packed up quickly, checked out, and got a full English and some orange juice at 'Waffle Palace' in Bayswater. I wasn't impressed, but it was better than eating toast in the hostel basement. After that just got on the bus, caught my flight, and came back to Spain. Just like that, Semana Santa was over. Now that I've been back to London, I want to visit it even more. Hopefully I can get back soon!

Also, I have to just say quickly that yesterday I had a class visit to Generalife, a part of the Alhambra, and I saw the background of my blog. The actual thing. Let me say, the picture does not do it justice.

Stay tuned for posts about shows and Harry Potter

Morocco. Better late than never, right?

So I'm not really sure how to describe my trip to Morocco. It was amazing and awesome and fantastic, but hard to describe. The culture was incredibly different from that of the US and even Spain, but there were elements that were the same. I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to organize this post, chronologically or by topic, but I'm gonna just go with it. I may post the itinerary so you have general idea, but it may be easier to flow from topic to topic. Also, here is the link to my awesome facebook album! I may add more photos to this, or add another link, because there was one day when only 2 people were allowed to take pictures, and I wasn't one of them. But you'll see them eventually.

Ok, so. Morocco.

I apologize if this is less detailed than my normal posts... it's been a while and I haven't really had much time to write about Morocco. So here it goes.

Saturday morning we woke up to the phone in our hotel room ringing for our wake up call, ate a pretty legit breakfast in the hotel, and got back on the bus to drive to Tarifa, the main port for ferries from Spain to Morocco. In Tarifa we met our guide, Jess. She's a visual artist who has been living in Morocco for several years, but has lived in tons of places and is originally from Wales. She gave us a quick orientation on the ferry, and we chose our team name: Team Guay (guay is the Spanish word for cool). Soon enough we could see Morocco, and landed at the port in Tangier

After taking a walk through the market, learning a few Arabic words (llhumdullah is thank God, and shukran [or something like that] means thank you) we visited a women's center called Darna, or 'Our House'. Darna offers French and Arabic literacy classes, and many skills classes to help the women of Tangiers get jobs to support their families. We got our first glimpse of Moroccan hospitality, and were given copious amounts of tea and pastries while talking to a few girls about our age about life as a woman in Morocco. We ate lunch there, too; it was a salad and chicken tajin, which was delicious.

Since we were spending the night in Rabat, we left and got on our mini bus with Jess and Eva, our IES staff member, and hit the road. I was dozing a bit, and when I opened my eyes for a look around, I saw camels on a beach. Well that's cool, I thought. Then the bus slowed down, and I realized this was it. We were going to ride the camels. Despite the fact that Andrea and Casey were surprised that I actually got on an animal that big, I love animals (except weird ones like the Gibraltar monkeys... or snakes), and I've ridden horses and even elephants before without being scared. And camels are sort of like horses (much smaller than elephants), just taller and with weirder joints. When you get on the camel it's sitting down on the sand. The trainer tells you to hold on tight and lean back, then the camel lifts its butt all the way, straightens out its back legs, then stands up on it's front legs too. It's a little scary, and the way down was 10 times worse, but it was worth it. I was so high up, but not afraid of falling. The ride lasted far too little time, and before I knew it we were once again on our way to Rabat, the capital city.

As soon as we arrived in Rabat we were introduced to our host families, and taken home to rest and have a snack before being led on a tour of the Medina (old city) by our host moms. We had been told that at least one person, be it a parent or teenager, would speak pretty good English. Well, let's just say it's a good thing I took 3 semesters of French, because our host mom, although super sweet and hospitable, was not an English speaker. She gave us tea, cake, and bread for a snack, and after the walk she fed us more tea and also a strange pasta dish, which consisted of cut up angel hair with cinnamon and powdered sugar. Weird but delicious, and served, of course, with more bread.

Our host mom had 2 kids. One was 7, and I don't remember his name. The other, whose name was pronounced 'said' was 2 (I think...) and was attached to his dad's iPad, and watched Tom & Jerry and Justin Bieber the entire time we were there. We didn't get to meet our host dad, because he was in America, visiting Obama with the king of Morocco, for whom he is a bodyguard. No big deal.

Before I continue, I'm going to go completely out of chronological order and talk about Moroccan drivers. With the exception of our bus driver, who did his best to be safe and normal, Moroccans drive like actual crazy people. There were multiple times when we almost got hit by cars, saw people almost get hit by cars, or actually see someone get hit. Luckily, the latter only happened once. Back on track, now.

Breakfast was tea with bread, jam and little biscotti-like cookies. After breakfast, we visited another NGO, called Hope for Saleh (no idea how to spell it, pronounced 'sahlly'), which plans events for people in the shanty-town of Saleh, and teaches boys and girls how to read, write, cook, and gives them skills to get jobs. We talked about politics with a few of the employees, and eventually digressed to religion and modesty and how women dress in Morocco, and it got a little awkward when one of the Moroccan guys started saying that  men can't even resist women's eyes because they 'look into them and it's like you're lost in an ocean', so of course they should cover the rest of their body. We also visited some Roman ruins/early Arabic ruins.

That being done, we had lunch at our homestay (by the way, the homestay 'we' was myself and 2 IES girls, Kelsey and Nora), with our hostmom's niece Sarah. We ate couscous and bread and had sour milk. Yes, sour milk. Seriously. Not like, oops guess the milk is sour, but the let's-let-this-milk-go-sour-then-drink-it. It's a thing there, apparently. Definitely a taste I have not (and hope to never) acquire. We also tried on some Moroccan wedding dresses, which can be seen in my album (link at the beginning of the post).

My favorite part of the whole trip happened that night: the Hammam. A hammam is an Arab bath; I can't remember if I've posted about them before, because I've seen about 6 for Islamic Art, but basically it's a girls- or boys-only space with hot and cold water taps, where you clean yourself. Moroccans don't really have in-house showers, so they go to the hammam about once a week. This may sound gross, but you get so clean there that it really isn't; Moroccans may have surface dirt but their skin is clean. Anyways, our hostmom's niece, Sarah, was our hammam guide, and took us (me, Nora, Kelsey, Kassie, Bethine, and Clarissa) to the one she normally goes to.

Basically you get a scrubbing mitt and soap (we also brought shampoo and whatnot), go upstairs, and strip down to just your panties (hence no boys) and scrub for an hour or two. We helped each other scrub our backs, we got massages, and we came out cleaner than ever before. I don't exaggerate; not since the day I was born have I been that clean. I wish the US had hammams (authentic, not touristy ones) so I could repeat the experience. The best part was how casual it all was. When we walked in, there were maybe 3 women there, and one was completely naked but it wasn't a big deal. We didn't sit there judging each other for our bodies, or acting weirded out at the other people, we just cleaned ourselves and got over it. Before we went I was told that Moroccans are very comfortable and intimate within their own sex, and I really understood the extent of that after I went to the hammam.

Once we had removed the top 3-10 layers of skin, we got henna done. Henna is a plant that is ground up and mixed with water, then applied to the surface of the skin with a (blunt, they're not piercing the skin) syringe, to better control the flow of the paste. You leave it on for 2 hours to overnight, and once it comes off it leaves color where the paste was. This typically lasts a week to 10 days, but I will say that the last traces just faded from my pinky, and I got it done 3 weeks ago. This supposedly means that I will have good luck, because the longer it lasts the longer you will have good luck, and I guess it's working. I have had an awesome last few weeks.

Dinner was a spicy minestrone with tea and bread, and the next morning we headed off, eventually to Chefchaouen. We stopped first at the mausoleum that holds the current king's father, uncle, and grandfather, as well as a mosque that was never completed because a)there was an earthquake, partially destroying their work, and b)the king who financed it died.

Two hours later we stopped in Ouissan to have a tea break and go to the market to buy the salad, bread, and other staples for a picnic we were having with a rural family later that day. Kokaale and I volunteered to go with Jess to help carry the produce, and it was amazing. I apologize in advance for the non-structure of the next few sentences. Everything was so colorful. The smells. Spices in piles like mountains. Live chickens, clucking happily next to their dead and plucked brethren. Halves of beef hanging from the ceiling. Fresh. Delicous. The vendors would give us samples of their food, and we eventually made it out without letting our chins totally drop to the floor.

When we got to the family's farm, the girls (the boys played with the family's 6 year old) helped prepare lunch by cutting all sorts of veggies and things: tomatoes, carrots, peppers, avocados, cucumbers, strawberries, bread, and something else whose name escapes me. The family provided couscous. We had veggie sandwiches with soft cheese. They were delicious. The carrots were the sweetest I had ever tasted, the bread was delicious. I don't even have words for how good all of this was. Sincerely. Dessert was oranges, and they  were super sweet, but less tangy than in the US or Spain. Delicious nonetheless.

After lunch we hiked up a hill nearby, to see the Rif mountains (technically we were in them but it was a good view) and the family asked us to sing. We sang a few songs, including don't stop believing and a whole new world, and they were so happy. It was amazing to see how much they took pleasure in the simple things around them.

Of the whole day, the funniest thing was the 6 year old, who was a total ham. He posed for photos, with expertise that would have gotten him the title of Morocco's next top model, which was hilariously surprising. He flirted with all of the girls, and gave us flowers. So cute.

Eventually and unwillingly we left, and headed to Chefchaouen. Once there we did a lot of shopping (the exchange rate is excellent) and had dinner at a real restaurant. I had couscous, salad, and for dessert (which we didn't get to choose) there was a type of thin yogurt, flavored with honey, almond, cinnamon and maybe some other spices. It was super super delicious.

On our last morning in Morocco, we met in the hostel lobby at 7:30 and went on a hike(ish) up a hill to see the landscape at sunrise. It was breathtaking, and a really good way to start bringing the trip to an end. We had 1st breakfast at the top, which was drinkable yogurt, dried figs (omg still have those) and almonds. The almonds in Morocco, by the way, were some of the best I've ever eaten. Super buttery and sweet. Second breakfast (so what if we act like hobbits on vacation) was in the town square, and it was orange juice, tea, and some type of bread with honey, butter, and jam.

Sadly, we had to end our journey shortly after, saying goodbye to Jess and crossing the border into Ceuta, a Spanish protectorate (?) in Morocco, then taking the Ferry to La Linea, and coming home by bus. So ended the trip. It was one of the most amazing places I've been, with some of the nicest people who tried to make me eat more than my Spanish host mom does. If anyone is thinking about travelling, I would definitely suggest a trip to Morocco.

A Promise

So, I'm sitting here at IES, with nothing (Except a few Spanish exercises, psshhh) to do, and so I thought I should update about Morocco, and Semana Santa. Then I realized my journal, in which I have notes on both trips (including about 40 pages on Semana Santa), is sitting on my desk back in my homestay. Oops. So,  I promise that after my class visit to the Alhambra tonight I'm going to sit down and just write a novel on the past 3 weeks of my life.

Here's a preview of what will be included: camels, couscous, lots of tea, 3 West End shows, a studio tour, minor freakout, a cathedral, peanut butter candies and the English language.

Pre- Semana Santa Update

I know, I know. I'll post about Morocco too, but I wanted to write this while I remember. Also, if you haven't seen my last post about Gibraltar, read it. I'm posting them back to back, so you might not have seen it. Anyways, today is Wednesday, and in 2 days I'm starting my spring break! I'm going to London this year, no more galavanting across four countries and 8(?) cities like last year. However, I would like to mention that I'M GOING TO THE HARRY POTTER STUDIO TOUR and I'm SO EXCITED. I'm thinking I can get to the theme park in FL next year, but I don't know when I'll have this chance again, so I'm taking it while I can. I will also probably be seeing Wicked and The Lion Kind, since I haven't seen the first one yet and the latter, 7 years ago. I'm also going to see some familiar faces from camp, as well as the people of the ICLC. So don't be surprised when I disappear again for a week.

I promise to post about Morocco soon!

Gibraltar

Before I get to Morocco, I'm going to do a separate post about Gibraltar. Sorry I'm so behind, but I've been busy with midterms and life and a lack of motivation to blog.

A few Fridays ago, I got up early and got on the bus with about 40 other IES students, and we took the 3 hour trip to Gibraltar. Gibraltar is a British ... not colony, but sort of like that... in southern Spain

It's a mere 14 miles from Morocco, and you can see some of the mountains in Morocco, and according to legend, one of those mountains and the Rock of Gibraltar (Which is not, in fact, a rock. It's a mountain) are the pillars of Hercules, or something, which Hercules pushed apart to open the path to the end of the world. 

Anyway.

Despite its vicinity to Andalusia, Gibraltar is ridiculously like England. Their currency is the Gibraltar Pound (like the Scottish Pound, it is legal tender in England but is regarded as sketchy there), and everything is English. The signs are in English, the people speak English (although they also speak Andalusian Spanish), the phone booths are English, they even have Zebra (rhymes with Debra) crossings. I loved it, because it reminded me of last spring and whatnot. 

After crossing the border, we hopped on mini buses to take tours of the peninsula, including the Rock. We went to Europa Point, which I was told is the southernmost point of Europe, but I don't believe, because I've seen maps and Tarifa is definitely farther south.Our guide/driver, Robert, drove us through town, and through some tunnels in the Rock that were excavated quickly at the beginning of WWII. After Europa Point, we went up the Rock, from which there were some amazing views of the Atlantic and the Mediterranean, as well as the Spanish Coast, and, of course, Morocco. 

The main attractions on the Rock that we went to were St. Michael's cave, which is the biggest cave in the Rock, and the apes. The cave is big enough to hold concerts in (although all the noise in such a confined and possible fragile space seems like a bad idea to me) and has some beautiful formations. And its gift shop had Cadbury Dairy Milk Caramel, so that helped. The apes were sort of terrifying but also wonderful. Some of them were adorable, moms grooming babies and babies grooming other babies, and others were sort of menacing. I think one hissed at us once, and they would just pop up on the wall right next to you out of nowhere. They were used to people, thought, and mostly really chill, so I actually got close enough to one to take a picture with it. A few brave monkeys even jumped on people's heads or into the vans. Thank God neither my head nor my van were involved in that, because I would have freaked out. 

The bus dropped us off near the main plaza... square?... where we had some free time. There was an optional hike up the Rock, but I was tired and really just wanted to find some Strongbow, so I opted out. I walked around the town a bit, bought cute postcards (seriously, one is adorable), bought some mini caramel eggs (oh how I've missed those), and had some Strongbow. We regrouped for dinner at a pub called The Clipper, where I got more Strongbow and some fish and chips. It was delicious.

The whole experience in Gibraltar was just beautiful, and made me miss London. Luckily I'll be there again in about 48 hours, for spring break. 

and here are some pictures, from other people's albums. The link to my Gibraltar/Morocco album is in the next post. 

delcious

these things are just everywhere

monkeys and me

view of the Rock from La Linea, the Spanish border town

me with Kassie and her very first Strongbow

Morocco Orientation

Did I say I wouldn't be posting for a while? Oops, oh well. My phone needs to charge for just a little longer, so I figured I would post (again) before bed. Hokay, so. Today was my orientation for my morocco trip, which is Friday. For those of you who don't know, Morocco is at the North West (top left) corner of Africa, just south of Spain:

see? I told you, it's right there on the top left

Now that we've got our geography lesson over with, here's basically what's going down. Today I got a bunch of facts, rules, suggestions, and words crammed into my poor little midterm-meltdown brain, which led me to take copious notes the entire time. In fact, I have 2 pages, plus the 2 sheets of paper (one with more notes) that Javier, the IES director gave us. 

The first day of the trip is in Gibraltar, the 'only place in Spain where people's first language is Spanglish.' Sounds like I'll fit in just fine. I can also apparently use the 29 quid I have leftover from last spring, or I can get the cool Gibraltar Pound, which is sort of like the Scottish pound: legal tender, only made in one place, and deemed sketchy by most Brits. I think I'll probably hit up an ATM, just so I can at least get a fiver to take home as a souvenir. There, we also get to climb the Rock of Gibraltar, which apparently has a lot of monkeys? 

Once in Morocco, we get to stay with host families (Dad if you're reading this, don't worry. They have never once had anything bad happen on one of these trips), go to a Hammam (Arab bath), get henna, eat our weight in couscous and oh, yeah, RIDE CAMELS. No big deal. I'm totally not excited to do that last one. 

During orientation, Javier clued us in on a few rules that we have to follow during our 4 days in Morocco

1. Don't take pictures of people, unless you get their permission first. They are offended by it, except kids. They like photos

2. Don't make physical contact with boys, unless you're shaking hands upon meeting or if they are pre-pubescent. 

3. Don't wear shoes on rugs

4. Eat, touch people, and give alms with you RIGHT hand. In Morocco, they don't (usually) have toilet paper; they have a 'dirty hand'

5. Giving a beggar your spare change is good and normal. 

6. You're going to eat from a communal dish, but only take what's in front of you. No stealing your neighbor's couscous. 

7. Don't talk about homosexuality

8. Don't question the king's authority, decisions, or lineage

9. Be very careful when talking about international politics, Western Sahara, or the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.

10. Dress like you live in Utah: no shoulders, chests, upper legs, or tight clothes

11. Leggings are NOT pants (oh, how I love this one)

12. Don't drink

13. Don't buy the weed in Chenchaouen. The dealer is probably working with the cops, and you'll spend the next 20 years of your life in a Moroccan prison. (yes, Javier actually said that out loud to us)

So that's pretty much it. I'm fairly certain this will actually be my last post until next Wednesday-ish. Next time you hear from me, I'll have been to Africa!

Malaga, Morocco, and Months

So last Friday, the watercolor class had a trip to Malaga, to visit the Picasso museum. Due to my unquestionable lack of artistic ability, I'm not in the class, but they had extra seats on the bus (for free!) so of course I went, with some friends. And although art is cool and everything, the beach is a lot cooler, so that's where I ended up. (also, a side note: is my English getting worse? Everything I'm writing sounds so dumb) We planned to be on teh beach all day, tanning and maybe swimming, but the weather had other ideas.

It had been warm and glorious for about an hour, when ominous, dark, clouds came rolling in from the mountains. We took this as our cue to take a coffee break, and we ended up just chilling near the beach for the rest of the day. It was still fun, though.

Not much has happened other than that; we had a game night on Thursday, at a bar with a bunch of board games, but that's really it. On Friday I'm going to Morocco (can cross another continent off my to-go list) with IES, which I'm super excited for. I have orientation for that tonight.

PS. I probably won't be updating a lot in the next month. This weekend/monday/tuesday is Morocco, then Christina is coming for the weekend, then a week later is Semana Santa (aka Spring Break: London Edition), and then a week later I'm going to Italy, too see Christina again. Oh, and some other cool cultural and historical stuff, like the Sistine Chapel. No big deal.

Cordoba, Fuentevaqueros, and Valderrubio

This weekend has been full of trips. On Friday, all of IES went to Cordoba and a nearby archaeological site, and this morning (Saturday) I went on a visit with my literature class, to the birthplace of Federico Garcia Lorca, as well as a town he lived in for four years. 

The site we visited yesterday is what's left of an old city from the period of the Omeya Caliphate. As a show of power, the first Caliph in Cordoba founded a new city, whose name I can't remember to save my own life. The city is about 8 kilometers from Cordoba, and the majority of wait remains pertained to the Alcazar, or palace, the gardens, and the mosque. It was pretty cool, as most of the walls remain, and you could more or less see the layout of the palace and the rooms within. Those moors certainly knew how to make the best use of space, because although it seemed small to me, it was actually an opulent royal palace.

Since this was just a day trip (no fancy hotels and long showers for us!), all we squeezed in to the Cordoba stop was a visit to the mosque-cathedral (I'll explain that in a moment), a visit to the synagogue, and a visit to Casa del Sefarad (which will also be explained). First stop was the cathedral-mosque. To clear things up right off the bat, it doesn't function as both a cathedral and a mosque. The next paragraph is going to be a super impressive history of the mosque, so if you're... one of the people who doesn't care about those things, cough cough... you can skip over to the one after.

The original structure was started in 785, by Abd al-Ramn I, who was the emir in Cordoba at the time (the Caliphate didn't begin until 929). All he built was the patio and the prayer room (that could be the totally wrong name, I'm doing my best to translate because my art history class is in spanish), and his son Hisan added the alminar, or tower, in 788. In 833 Abd al-Ramn II extended the naves in the prayer room towards the river. Nearly a century later, in 929, Abd al-Ramn III, amplified the patio, tore down and reconstructed the alminar, and reinforced the facade, which was beginning to lean into the patio. Al Hakam II extended the naves all the way to the river in 962, and finally Almanzor laterally extended both the prayer room and the patio in 988. And unless you really want to know more, that's all I'm writing about the history. If you want a really detailed description, I can do one with all the interior details and stuff.

Anyways, it was really really interesting to see the transition from mosque to cathedral, right in the middle of the building. It was amazing. I mean, here's a baroque cathedral smack dab in the middle of an 8th century mosque. Crazy. I'll post the link, once again.

This morning I got up early again for my literature class trip to Federico Garcia Lorca's birthplace. It was sort of cool, but mostly I just felt like I was intruding, even though everyone who ever lived in the house has died, because it was set up exactly as it was while the family lived there, with the original furnishings, textiles, and everything. They even had Lorca's younger sister, who was the longest surviving member of the family who had lived in the house, help with the restoration in order to make it perfect. The majority of the interesting-ness of both houses we saw was the connections to Lorca's works. For example, he used to listen to a neighbor yell at her husband and kids by standing over the well, which was connected to all the other wells on the block. This woman inspired a character in one of his plays, La Casa de Bernarda Alba.

So, basically, that's it. If you don't have facebook, check out my album from the weekend. :)

Salobreña, monte sin leña, mar sin pescao, niños maleducaos, curas pocos y locos

Yesterday was el Dia de Andalucia (festival of Andalusia), which means that we didn't have class! Yay! It was sort of annoying, because we had class Monday (and hence couldn't just take a long weekend to travel), but I still made the best of it. I headed to Salobreña, a beach town about an hour outside of Granada, with some of the girls from IES. 


My host mom had told me that Salobreña was the best beach to go to, and when she said that, my host sister said: Salobreña, monte sin leña, mar sin pescao, niños maleducaos, curas pocos y locos. Translation: mountain without trees, sea without fish, rude children, few and crazy priests. It sounds better when it rhymes. Anyways, it wasn't as crazy as all that, and I saw people fishing, so I guess there are fish. 


It wasn't super warm or sunny. The sky was sort of hazy, but that actually turned out to be for the best, because I could feel my face burning about 5 minutes after the sun came out. I put on sunscreen after that, so the only difference is that my seasonal freckles are slightly visible. 


Once again, I'm too lazy to upload all the photos to blogger, so here's the link to my facebook album. 

Las niñas buenas van al cielo, las malas a los Carnavales de Cádiz

Warning: this post may be a little... crazy. And probably a tad controversial. Please bear with me.

I saw that (the title of this post) on someone's sweatshirt yesterday. It translates to "Good girls go to heaven, bad ones go the the Carnaveles of Cádiz". Why am I telling you this? Well, yesterday (Saturday) was the start of one of the 2 weekends of Carnaval (I'm told it's like Mardi Gras, though I've never been to the latter) in Cádiz, a Spanish city on the coast of the Atlantic Ocean. First, I would like to say that Cádiz is beautiful and I would love to go back during a less crazy time. 

This whole thing started a few weeks ago when a few of the girls at IES said they were going to Carnaval. Pretty soon, about half our program (myself included) had tickets for the same bus, which were actually a pretty good deal. 20 euro for a round trip. Normally, you'd have to pay 35 euro to get to Cádiz and back. Anyway, we knew we had to dress up. There was some debate over whether we should just dress crazy or have actual costumes. I went with my typical 'buy one or two things and make a costume out of it' approach. I ended up purchasing one of those skirt things that belly dancers wear (with all the jingly things) and a top as well. I knew exactly what I had in my wardrobe to go with this: leggings, a black skirt, a black tank top, and (for night time, so I didn't freeze) a stay-warm shirt, cardigan and jacket. 

My idea going into this was that it would be some sort of cultural festival, maybe with a parade or music. Well, I was half right. It was certainly a display of Spanish culture. We got to Cádiz around 6 pm, and decided to chill at the beach while it was still light outside. We played in the water and sand (legit, there are about 100 pictures of people jumping on the beach or in the water) then watched the sunset. We then heard some loud noises of the festive variety, so we walked in the direction  they were coming from. 

Was it a parade? Was it a band? No. It was a bunch of people with drums, and some guys dressed as matadors with a shopping cart bull. We followed the crowd and ended up in the plaza of the Cathedral, where we realized that, at this point, Carnaval was a giant botellon. Because of a delay in leaving Granada (there were so many people going to Cádiz that there was lots of confusion and it took twice as long to load the buses) we had missed all the parade-like festivities. 

For those of you who don't know, a botellon is sort of like a giant Spanish frat party: people get really drunk and stay out till all hours of the night, and following morning. We didn't know that it was just going to be this, but we rolled with it and decided to enjoy what we could. *disclaimer: yes, we were drinking,  but not nearly as much as the Spaniards (or many other attendees) and made sure that we were close enough to sobriety to be safe.* Pretty soon, I was bored. Yeah, it's fun to talk to your friends and other random Americans that always want to talk once they realize you're American too, but literally all most people were doing was drinking. 

You see, in the US, college parties (which is all I can really equate this too) have drinking games, and other stuff, like music/dancing to enjoy, as well as bathrooms and couches. Carnaval, on the other hand, was one giant mass of crazy, where people just stood there, talking to their friends and getting way too drunk. I can't even tell you how many ambulances I saw go by. There was no place to sit, as people throw their empties on the ground (gross) and some people would just go to a wall a pee (even grosser). Various times throughout the night, my friends and I walked back to the beach, where we (not even kidding) decided to sing some Disney songs to pass the time. Yes, it is an automatic requirement that college students regress to kindergarten levels of maturity. 

Eventually (around 5), we gave up trying to entertain ourselves, and sat on the stairs of the plaza for the buses until 6 am, when we were scheduled to be picked up. That went mostly fine, with the exception of some latecomers who had been lost. We got back to Granada by midmorning, and I was so happy to be back. Yes it was an experience, and I'm glad I went rather than asking myself what it would have been like, but I don't think I'd go back again. I value my sanity a little too much for that. 

Ronda y Sevilla

At IES Granada, as there were with the ICLC, there are several  fully subsidized trips to surrounding places in Andalucia. Our first was to the Alpujarra, and this weekend's was to Ronda and Sevilla, two cities within three hours of Granada.

In Ronda, we started at the historical Plaza de Toros (bullfighting ring), but didn't go in. Instead, we went to an overlook of the surrounding valley. The view was incredible. I'll post a link to the facebook album at the end of the post. Ronda was built near a very steep, impossible to scale, cliff in order to protect the city. Because of the height, you can see for miles. We were there on a nice, clear day, so it was particularly spectacular.

We then saw the Puente Viejo (old bridge), the support pillars of which apparently used to serve as a prison. If you ticked off your guards, they threw you out a window. Which is only, you know, slightly terrifying. Crossing the bridge, we made it to the old Arab Baths, which were not what I was expecting. Having been to the Roman Baths in England, I was thinking they'd be fairly open, with pools and airy spaces. I forgot to take into account the fact that the Roman Baths are heated naturally by hotspring, while the Arab Baths of Ronda were heated by fire. Therefore, they put a lot more effort into making sure as little heat as possible escaped from the heated rooms. Though there were skylights in the ceiling, for light and sanitation purposes, it was still dim and cave-like. I suppose the twilight would make it more relaxing.

After that, we went to La Casa del Rey Moro (House of the Moorish King), where we saw some pretty gardens and went down into Las Minas. Las minas literally translates as 'the mines'; these tunnels consisted of 194 steps down, through the interior of the cliff, that led to a river below. It was definitely work the burning muscles and absolute terror at walking down slippery wet steps in near darkness, because I don't think I've ever seen water that blue. Maybe in a movie, but never in real life. I personally don't have a ton of pictures (and no group shots) because my friends, took a ton, and told me I could use theirs. Once they're online, I'll post them.

After lunch (eaten picnic style at the lookout) we hopped back on the bus and went to Sevilla. Our first afternoon there consisted of a ton of free time, so my friends Danielle and Dave and I explored a little then got dinner. That night there was a flamenco performance, and it was amazing. I had been to one before, when I was in Barcelona in 2008 (was it really so long ago?), but to be honest I don't remember much of it. This one, however, was amazing. The guitarist, the singer, and the dancers. Everything. The guitar is so intricately played, and the singing is raw and emotional. My favorite part by far was the dancing. Not only was it technically amazing, but the passion in the woman's face really made it spectacular. I mean, you can usually tell the emotional color of a song or dance, but this just burst through. I'm not sure if I was more impressed by the speed at which she was able to move her feet without breaking the rhythm, or by how passionate she was about the dance.

Saturday was just as exciting as Friday. Our first stop was Los Reales Alcazares de Sevilla, or the Royal Palace. When the Spanish royal family is in town, that's where they stay. Because I did a project on Spanish castles this fall, I already knew a few things about the Alcazar, like who originally built it, the architectural style, and the history of some of the areas and their names. One patio in particular, El Patio de Las Doncellas, stands out in my mind. Its name refers to the legend that the Moorish kings demanded 100 virgins each year as a tribute from the Christian kings of the Iberian Peninsula. It, like the palace, is gorgeous. We walked around almost the entire palace, and even saw some peacocks after getting accidentally separated from our group, because our leader didn't give us time to take pictures.

We also saw the Cathedral, which was built after the destruction of the Mosque that was there originally. The only remaining part of the Mosque is La Giralda (the tower). We climbed to the top (thankfully there were ramps, not stairs), and could see the entire city. Within the cathedral itself, we saw the tomb of Christopher Columbus, although one other church claims to have his body.

Below are 3 photos (2 from the trip) that are from some of my friends, but you can look at my facebook album, too.

This isn't from Sevilla. It's from Wednesday, when Danielle, Alicia (pictured) and I got chocolate y churros. 

Dave and I practicing our mapping skills

Playing in the maze at the Alcazares

La Alpujarra

I feel like I keep apologizing about not blogging, so I won't apologize. But I have been really busy and have the weirdest schedule ever right now, so bear with me.

Anyway, last Saturday was our first IES day trip, to La Alpujarra, which is a mountainous area, which I think (wikipedia wasn't really clear, and noone from IES told me) that it's part of the Sierra Nevada. More specifically, we did a hike from the highest village, Capaleira, to a lower village, Pampaneira. Most of the ride there was gorgeous, until we got to the vertigo-inducing switchbacks and I had to close my eyes.

We were told beforehand that there would be two groups: one for an easier route, and the other for the difficult route. Due to past injuries, my own klutziness, and a desire not to make a fool of myself in front of my more athletic classmates, I decided to take the easy trail. 7.8 kilometers, including about 2 km of water and/or mud later, I realized that 'easy' is a relative term. It started out fine, though a little steep, as we made our way out of Capaleira. We stopped for water and a snack near a bridge, and then I realized that we were at the bottom of the valley between the mountains. Uh oh. We proceeded to hike up the mountain opposite the one we had walked down, which made me feel super out of shape.

Although the hike was difficult, it wasn't scary, per se. At least, not until the end. Do you see that faint line that starts about 1/3 of the way up the left hand side of the photo? Under the big patch of grass? That was our trail for the last 500 feet or so. It was a pretty steep drop to one side, and only a few feet wide, and slick with mud. I was tempted to sit and slide. Luckily, I made it all the way down without killing myself or anyone else.

When we finally made it to Pampaneira I went straight into a cafe and got some well deserved hot chocolate. Guess we should have read the sign before doing the hike: