In which I avoid topless sunbathers, drink horchata and rescue Pepe.

I could, perhaps, blame my erratic blogging on any number of things, including extensive travel, the Mediterranean, the warm weather, laziness etc. In reality, it turns out that living in Spain is quite stubbornly NOT conducive to productivity of any kind. I often sit down to write a post, and then maybe someone invites me to watch the Madrid-Barça game or go to the farmer's market. (I'm a Madrid fan, for the record. I decided by weighing which city I like better.) In the meantime, I've been busy forgetting how to spell in English, playing a card game called chinchón with a group I like to call "the abuelos," or drinking horchata. My days are completely filled, and before I know it, it's suddenly 9:00 and time to eat dinner. (A practice I'm still not completely accustomed to. Especially lately since I've been craving steak.)

Today has already been populated by very Spanish experiences. I've been enjoying the recent bout of 75º weather and spending hours at the beach, in the company of plenty of topless sunbathers. This aspect of beach-going took some time to get used to; the most humorous part is the 60+ crowd seems to be much more into topless sunbathing (and thong bottoms) than the rest of the beach-goers. It's normal enough now, and in my generous moments I suppose there's something to be said for their self-confidence. Nonetheless, we typically look for a piece of beach sans half-nude abuelas.

Later on, my friend Christine and I went to a little horchatería to try the famous Spanish horchata. Horchata, as Pepe explained to me at lunch, is made of a tuber that the Spanish call "chufas." ("Now Olivia, it's not the part above the ground, like a strawberry, but the part below the ground, like a potato.") They process it, add water and it becomes a drink that I can only liken to vanilla soy milk, but sweeter. We ordered ours granizado, making it more like a smoothie. It was delicious, and we drank our horchata in this tiny place filled with locals. They crowded the bar, waving 10 euro bills and loudly ordering their cafés, horchatas and helados. A friendly Spanish man asked where I was from, mentioning he has an American student living in his house too. We marveled at what appeared to be suizas - sugared rolls - with a scoop of turrón ice cream sandwiched between.

On the way out, mashed together at the bar while waiting to pay, someone tapped me on the butt. I turned around, expecting to see a creepy Spanish man, but I found instead a little girl plopped in a chair behind me. "Hola!" I said. "Hola!" she exclaimed, in her bold three-year-old manner. Our conversation proceeded:

Little Girl: "Cómo estás?"
Olivia: "Muy bien, y tú?" (Good, how about you?)
Little Girl: "Bien! Cómo te llamas?" (Good! What's your name?)
Olivia: "I'm Olivia." (Oleeveeah, in Spanish.) "Are you going to eat some ice cream?"
Little Girl: "Sí! Chocolate. And this is my friend Margarita! I'm three and she is four."

I turned around to pay, and she tapped me again.
Little Girl: "Cómo estás?"

Our charming conversation continued until I paid, and we parted with a friendly "Hasta luego!" Nearly every Spaniard ends their social transactions - whether a phone call with a TV repairman, a purchase at a bakery, or when parting from close friends - with "Hasta luego!" which literally means "Until later." I love this. I think it's one of the most friendly ways to say goodbye: even though you might never see someone again, perhaps the bus driver or the waiter, you leave them with a suggestion of the future. There's something so wonderfully personal about this, and I prefer it over "Adios" or "Ciao," just for this reason.

As I was hiking up the stairs and listening to my music after leaving the horchatería, I was startled to hear a knocking on first floor door. This was especially unnerving as I thought I was home alone; I peered out into the staircase, and seeing no one I went back to my room. I sat down in my chair to take off my sandals when I heard a faint "Ollie! Ollie!" from downstairs. I stop mid-sandal removal and realize that Pepe is somewhere in the house.

"Pepe?! Dónde estás?" (Pepe?! Where are you?)
"Estoy aquí abajo! Maricarmen me ha cerrado aquí, y necesito ir al Mercadona! Tráete la llave tuya!" (I'm downstairs! Maricarmen locked me in here, and I need to go to the supermarket!)
"De veras? Qué va!" (Really?!) I stifled a laugh.

I ran down the stairs and unlocked him. (A moment of explanation: our house has three floors. On the first floor is their old shop where they sold sewing materials. The second floor has the living room and kitchen, and the third floor holds our bedrooms and bathrooms. Each floor has its own key; Maricarmen had taken the second floor key out on her way to her daughter's, leaving Pepe fast asleep in his chair and stuck downstairs.) He was grateful to see me, but was very concerned because - ¡Dios mio! - we had no bread to eat for dinner. This crisis has been averted, and neither of my host parents are locked inside the house any longer.

When I think about home.

I think it's high time for a top ten list or two. Every day I think of things that I love about Spain, and - more recently - things that I love about home. I can't help comparing the two, although I know that Spain and the U.S. are completely distinto.

Things I miss about home (in no particular order):
1. Clean public facilities (sidewalks, bathrooms, hallways, libraries, etc.) Janitors will leave the University bathrooms after "cleaning" them and I'll enter, only to find toilet paper and other detritus still scattered on the floor.
2. Normal sized coffee for a reasonable price. Café americano (the closest thing possible to black coffee) costs anywhere from €0,70 to €2,00...for a tiny little cup. I wish I'd brought my coffee maker.
3. Tap water. You have to pay for water anywhere you go, and it's usually more expensive than soda or una caña.
4. The refrigeration there. I can't quite adapt to drinking tepid milk, although I know it's perfectly fine. (However, the Spanish word for "refrigerator," frigorífico, is one of my favorites.)
5. Of course, my family and friends.
6. Walking down the street without holding my purse in a death grip for fear of ladrones.
7. Goldfish.
8. Taking anything "to-go." Since the Spanish like to sit and chat, the concept doesn't really exist here; this proves challenging when I'm running late for the bus and want to drink my coffee.
9. Being able to go to class without (attempting) to look like I'm in a Euro-fashion show.
10. All of my books.

Things I love about Spain:
1. The people. The Spanish are, generally, extremely friendly and willing to help with whatever you might need.
2. The use of public space. The plazas and parks here - unlike the restroom facilities - are beautiful and well cared-for. People love to go to the various plazas and just sit...people don't really do this in the States. Maricarmen says it's because "Here, it's warm. And where you live it's really cold! So no one wants to sit outside."
3. Jamón serrano, a delicious prosciutto-esque ham.
4. La República, my favorite Spanish tele-drama.
5. Successfully riding the autobús. I'm always strangely satisfied when I hop on a bus I don't normally ride, and arrive safely at home.
6. Classy Spanish children: they're always wearing pea coats and little boots.
7. Being able to hop on a train and - four hours later - I'm in Barcelona or Madrid. Two hours by plane to Paris, two hours to Germany. I always forget that I had to undergo a 7.5 hour Atlantic crossing to get here.
8. The sun! And being so close to the sea.
9. Maricarmen and Pepe. They're adorable.
10. Oh, i also really enjoy the bread, (pan) to my chagrin.
11. Mercadona: best generic grocery store products en el mundo entero. I'm probably sustaining the entire company single-handedly.

Traveling Light

Lately, on sunny afternoons, I'll pack a book and set off on an expedition through the streets of Alicante. As the city is relatively small, I'm constantly surprised by the amount of cafés, boutiques, shops and restaurants crowded into the narrow calles. I like to go by myself because, although I love my host padres, sometimes I just want to spend some time alone with my own thoughts. On Friday I came across a plaza called "la Plaza Gabriel Miró," or, as I tend to call it, the plaza with the giant trees.


It's a beautiful plaza just off La Rambla, and despite the enormous trees, it's easy to miss. I saw it once a few weeks ago, walking with a group of friends, and have been searching for it ever since. I sat and worked on some homework while I watched the people passing through the narrow streets nearby.

I feel at home in Alicante, despite being very far away from the States: it's a livable city, and there are countless things to do for an old soul like myself. Apart from sitting in plazas, I've been spending time on the beach, frequenting cafés and visiting tapas bars. I had a moment in Barcelona last weekend when I was frustrated by its enormity: two friends and I were searching for a bar to meet up with other people, and we walked for more than half an hour trying to find it. None of the Spaniards we asked knew where it was (I started to feel like it didn't exist...it turns out it's just really touristy.) and we finally gave up. My feet were killing me and I just wanted to be back in my small city again.

That being said, Barcelona was beautiful. I keep saying that the best part were the Starbucks on every corner...that's not really true. (Although drinking normal American coffee was a definite plus to the trip!) We toured La Sagrada Familia and walked past other Gaudí works, as well as drank cava in El Xampanyet, a champagne bar close to the Museo de Picasso. I was so excited when I saw El Xampanyet: apparently it's famous, and so there was a picture of it in an old Spain calendar I had.



Although February has been pretty routine (except for the whole being in Spain thing), March is going to be a busy month for me: next weekend is my birthday and Carnaval, a giant festival/party here in Alicante. I'm not sure why they celebrate Carnaval, or what it means, but I like to tell people that it's really just a celebration for my birthday. The next weekend I'm off to Madrid with three friends, and I'm excited because A) I'll be going to Madrid and B) This will be the most independent traveling I've done so far. There's a Renoir exhibit at the Museo Prado, which I'm planning on seeing, as well as the Museo Reina Sofía. I found a highly rated hotel for $30 a night, and we get our own bathroom and private bedroom. It was funny because some hostels - in which we would've had to share a room/bathroom with four strangers - cost the same. Suffice to say I'm happy we found this one instead.

After Madrid, I'm going to Valencia for a day trip with CIEE. I'm excited to see Valencia, but it's too bad it's only for a day! I might have to go back before the semester is over. Finally, the weekend of the 25th I'm off to Barcelona again. I'm taking the train in by myself, which is about a four hour journey. Then I'll take the Metro to the hotel where Mom, Sean and Emily will be saying: I feel rather "European Traveler" about the matter. I'm trying to find a good weekend to go to Paris, as well as Norway and Sweden. My friends and I are planning our spring break as well: we want to go to Germany, Poland, Austria and Croatia.

Pues, It's about time for our giant meal of the day, la comida. Wish me luck: my padre thinks it's funny that I like bread so much, and he always gives me about half a loaf to eat, despite my protests. It's probably a good problem to have.

"Eh, bombón!"

Learning colloquial Spanish has proven to be a slight challenge: every time I learn a new slang term or euphemism, I struggle because most of the colloquial phrases - literally translated - have nothing to do with what they mean. Or, you think you know what a phrase means, and it changes meanings depending on who says it or who it refers to.

I'm always perplexed until I remember that we do the same in English. For example, one of my favorite colloquial terms is "la pasta." Yes, "la pasta" does mean "pasta," the food. (As in "Maricarmen cooks delicious pasta," which she does.) But it also means "cash" or "money." You could say "Ese abogado tiene mucha pasta," and that would mean "That lawyer is really rich." I thought it was really funny that the Spanish use the same word for both a delicious food and money, until I realized that, in English, we call it "dough."

The concept is just more humorous in a foreign language: In French, for example, "chou chou," means "honey" or "dear."

"Chou chou" literally translates to "cabbage."

One evening, I was sitting in my room working on homework. It was around 9 o'clock, which is when most Spanish families eat dinner. Pepe came upstairs and peeked his head in my room.

"Eh, Bombón, no tienes hambre?" he asked me. ("Hey Bonbon, are you hungry?") I answered that I was, and that I'd be down in a minute. But I was a little surprised: before we came, CIEE warned us that most Spanish are a lot thinner than Americans, and that we might get called fat...although it would likely be "affectionately."

When Pepe called me "Bombón," I immediately thought of the candy, as in a chocolate bonbon. Which then led me to think he was calling me fat, because someone who ate a lot of bonbons would certainly be fat. And, to top it off, he was asking me if I wanted to eat!

I've since learned that "bombón" can mean a myriad of things, from "sweetheart," to "sexy" depending on the context. I'm just thankful my host family doesn't think I'm fat...although I'm probably on my way there, considering all the food they give me. (Once, they told me bread won't make me gain weight. I'm not so sure about that one.)

A Concise Beginner's Guide to Spanish Colloquialisms:

1. "Mono" means "cute." Not to be confused with "mano" (hand), it also means "monkey." Again, you have to work with the context.
2. False cognate alert: "Caramelo" does NOT mean "caramel." It means "cough drop." And I learned that one the hard way...a disappointing mistake to make.
3. "Hacer la vista gorda," loosely tranlsates to "make a fat glance." What it means, however, is to "look the other way" while something is going on.

In other news, this afternoon I'm heading to the port in San Juan with Pepe and Maricarmen to buy fish. They say that the fishermen bring the fish right from the boats, and they're still live when you pick them out. You haggle over the price, come to an agreement, and then they apparently wrap up the fish - still live - and you take them home. I think this will be a very Spanish experience.

Becoming "una Española"

Before I begin, I must digress to apologize for any misspelled words: for the past week I've been struggling a little bit with spelling in English. I'm constantly laughing at myself because I haven't been away long, but words with strange spellings, (like "humongous" and "grateful") have suddenly become a little tricky.

These past few weeks have been busy with orientation, getting settled in with my host family, and starting classes. We just finished up two weeks of "Intensive Spanish Review," which consisted of class from 9-1:30 P.M. every day. And the review was useful, it was tough to sit through four hours of class each morning. So I'm glad we've moved on to our normal semester courses.

I feel like I'm starting to adapt to the Spanish lifestyle: physically, I blend in well with other Spanish women. Looking Spanish greatly reduces the amount of catcalls you attract while walking down the street. (Unless, of course, you're dressed up to go out. We had a man sing to us once in a valiant attempt to get our attention.) Looking Spanish also has its entertainment value: I love standing next to American students from other programs on the bus without saying anything. If I throw in an English "excuse me," to get off the bus, they're usually quite surprised.

So far, I'm so happy I chose Alicante as my city away from home. It's a livable, Spanish city, where there are very few tourists and barely anyone speaks English. Some Alicantinos like to practice their English on us...however this usually makes communication more challenging than if they were speaking Spanish. From what Spanish-speakers have told me, it's extremely difficult to learn the proper accent to speak English; each time I think about this, I'm grateful to already know the language!

My host family is wonderful: Maricarmen and Pepe are an older couple in their late sixties who have five children, although they're all moved out of the house. They're very caring and love to chat with me: I'm their 33rd host student, and I think they genuinely like to have exchange students in the house. I have a large room and my own bathroom, which is more exciting than it sounds. (Some girls in my program are sharing one bathroom with entire families of four!) Every time I leave the house, Pepe tells me "Abrígate bien, eh? Con chaqueta, bufanda y guantes." which essentially means "Dress warmly with your coat, scarf and gloves!"

It's been in the high 40's since we arrived: I told them it was about -30º Celsius in Minnesota last week, and they were appalled.

Spanish life revolves around meals: there are technically five meals a day. Desayuno is breakfast, and that typically consists of galletas, which are sort of like graham crackers; yogur (yogurt, and one of my most favorite Spanish words: they pronounce it "Yoh-guuur."), coffee, and una madelina, which is a muffin. After that is almuerzo which is around 11:30, and that's a mid-morning snack.

La comida, or, literally, "The food," is between 2-3:30. La comida is the largest meal of the day, and we eat things like pasta, chicken, soup, or paella as the main course. Then we'll have bread, nuts, jamón, and fruit on the side: it's enormous. I know now why the Spanish started the tradition of siesta, because you need a nap after eating so much.

Later, there's merienda, another afternoon snack, and dinner, or la cena occurs around 9 P.M. It's so funny; I don't know how they have time to do anything else but eat.

On My Way

Here I sit, waiting at the gate in Minneapolis. It looks like my flight will still be on time, despite the snow. I fly from here to Philadelphia, where I have a four hour layover. Then I head to Madrid! I arrive at 8 AM their time, which will frel like 1 AM to me. (Needless to say, I might be a little tired at that point.) After another long layover I'll be on my way to sunny Alicante! It's supposed to be 60 degrees there tomorrow...Esther and I will probably be laying out on the beach, to the surprise of all the Spaniards.

This past week has been a flurry of preparations. I had appointments, did some shopping, and made photocopies galore. Traveling abroad is a lot of work! But I think I have everything, and my bag even made the required weight! (a veritable miracle.)

The Spanish phrase for "I'm excited," is "Estoy emocionada." I'm all ready to leave, and although I'm a little nervous, estoy muy emocionada.

Ciao!
Olivia

Two Weeks to Go

I woke up this morning in a slight panic, concerned that I only have two weeks left and countless things to do before then. However, I can only pick a few of those things out of this hazy panic, including that 1) I need to buy more pants, and 2) I need to exchange dollars for euros. I don't know whether this means I'm more prepared than I thought, or that I'm not prepared at all.

Realistically, I've been preparing all semester. I know what I need to bring, I have lists upon lists of things to do. I know I shouldn't buy a lot of clothing, because I have to pack my entire life into two or three suitcases for six months; at the same time, I feel a need to go abroad looking as European as possible. Every person I say this to laughs at me: it's an odd whim I've been indulging, a whim that, in fact, caused me to buy jeggings.

Worries aside, I get more excited every day. I take pride in my growing stack of colorful travel books on Barcelona, Madrid, Paris and Spain; I learn something new about each place every day. I've been scouring the internet for photographs of Alicante, some of which I've included below. The more I look, the happier I become with my decision to study there: Alicante may not be the most bustling city in Spain, but that's not what I wanted. I hope to become immersed in their small culture, and learn Spanish to the best of my ability. If I feel the need for a more energetic city, Barcelona is only about 3 hours north, and Madrid about 5 hours away, in the center of Spain.

This is La Explanada, a beautiful promenade along the beach in Alicante:


I've fallen in love with this street corner; I plan on finding it when I arrive.


Bellisima.


Did I mention it hasn't snowed in Alicante in 61 years?