I can't believe it's almost March...time doesn't feel real here. I've been blogging so much about trips that I haven't said too much about my daily life. So where do I start?
I've been teaching English to an 8 year old Spanish boy three times a week for a month now, and it's going pretty well. He's pretty hilarious, but doesn't have much interest in learning the language. I've never been a teacher before, and I've never been the most entertaining babysitter either, but if there's one thing I do know in this foreign country it's how to speak English! So I do what I can. I write sentences for him to correct, we play word games on the computer, and we have discussions, which get pretty funny with a little Spanish kid. His answers have prompted a "stuff Noam says" page in my notebook. For instance, I asked him what age he would want to stay for the rest of his life and he said "Eighteen, because you have the most girlfriends." And his response to if he'd rather be an artist, race car driver, or be in a band, his immediate response: "Play guitar in a band. That's how you get girlfriends." The kid's got his head on track. Other questions are even more ridiculous...I asked him what he thinks the world will be like in 100 years, and he grabs my laptop and types in Google Images "El fin del mundo" (end of the world) and starts showing me pictures of the zombie apocalypse. What are kids watching these days? He also refuses to do any writing exercises without holding a Nerf gun pressed against my head with his finger on the trigger, holding me hostage. Whatever gets him to do it is A-okay with me. Oh, and he lent me his Spanish version of the first Harry Potter book, which I'm pretty psyched about. Teaching Noam is quite the learning experience, and I love it. First of all, I can relate to him. When he's trying to describe something and can't come up with the word in English, it's like me with my host parents. It's frustrating and challenging, and I get it. Noam's lucky because even if he's not too thrilled about it, I'm passionate about the importance of learning new languages. I'm not messing around - I want to have a positive impact on him and for him to improve by May. I'm jealous of him too; the kid knows Spanish, Catalonian, French and English. It's amazing how capable your brain is when you start out young. Bottom line, my future little kids are definitely watching Dora the Explorer. So that's where I'm at Monday-Wednesday evenings. Other than that, you can find me at the university during the day or (more often) on the beach. The weather's been warming up a bit and beach volleyball is becoming almost a daily thing. Everyone comes together and meets at the same spot, meeting new people and hearing three different languages in one game. Although we shout "Tengo!" and "Tuyo!" instead of "I got it!" or "Yours!" it's just like any friendly competition in the States. Shout out to the Sandy Bottoms team back home. :) I've also been running as often as possible, which isn't too difficult when your route includes views of palm trees, sailboats, and great looking Europeans. Yesterday I realized I left my planner at the university and didn't feel like using a trip on my bus pass, so I decided to run there. It's usually at least 30 minutes away by bus, so going by foot and seeing the outskirts of Alicante up close was quite the adventure. I've also been using my roller blades that I bought at a pawn shop here. Yup...I'm taking advantage of the fact that it's not weird here and am almost definitely going to be using them to get to class back in the States. I've got to work off all of this amazing food somehow! Then at night, we head to El Barrio (translation: the neighborhood, actually: the fun area where all the bars are). The bartenders at Austin's are the same people we play volleyball with, and Sami actually started working there too, so that's almost always our first stop. You'd think we would feel like least bit uncomfortable in Spain...instead, we're the ones running into people we know (of all nationalities), giving kisses on the cheeks of our bartenders, going behind the bar to change the music, offering to clean up at the end of the night...it's comical. There's a bar for almost each day of the week, which is also not a foreign concept for us. On the weekends of course we head to the discotecas (clubs) and dance the night away, losing track of time and each other until about 7 in the morning. These places make Ten Below look like a high school birthday party. I've never had more fun at clubs in my life...Kapital in Madrid still has the number one spot though. And the experiment has been confirmed: I am actually 100% more fluent in Spanish after a couple bebidos. And instead of taking those salsa lessons I was planning on, I've had Spanish guys teach me how to salsa to dubstep...I can dig it. But with all of that aside, my daily life really can't be summed up without Asuncion and Pedro. I'm with them for every meal and more. We always have long talks before bed unless I go out, and they help me with anything and everything I need...or don't need! It's amazing how quickly these two have become like my own parents. There are days when I'm not in the best mood or I forget to do something they asked or don't tell them when I won't be home for a meal...and we talk and we work through it. It's a learning experience. Let's see how many times I can say that in my blog, ha. But it's true, especially when all of it's in Spanish. I'm really starting to see how challenging this semester is. Not "challenging" in any sense of the word that I've known before. It's definitely not an overload of work, not cramming for exams or juggling deadlines. It's forcing myself into a foreign environment and to interact with people whom I have no idea what their lives are like or what language they speak. My classes here, although taught in English, are filled with countless nationalities of people: German, French, Irish, Finnish, Swedish, Italian, whatever. In my retail marketing class I remember one of the Americans about to give an example about successful advertising, and asked the teacher, "Are you familiar with or have you heard of Geico?" She hadn't, and it just kind of made me laugh for second. At Mizzou, we can raise our hand and start talking about the St. Louis Cardinals or the Lake of the Ozarks without a doubt in our mind that everyone would know what we were talking about. I've just never thought about how easy things are when you know that every person you approach speaks your language and has about the same manners and general knowledge. The class thing is just a tiny example. What's cool about being here is adjusting. And there are no assumptions allowed. What's the other half of the challenge? Being on the other side of the world from everything I'm used to. Yes, there's a beach here. Yes, I have friends and great host parents and it's amazing. But that does not mean that I don't have days where I feel like I'm alone on another planet. Anything I would usually do or anyone I would turn to when I'm having a bad day, I don't have here. I think what's gotten to me most is when I don't have wifi and just want to talk to someone - in English! It's probably further proving my serious addiction to my cell phone, but it really is a trapping feeling when you can't call your mom or best friend. It's all part of that fun thing I keep talking about - the learning experience. Yes, I miss all you guys that are (hopefully) reading this, but I'm so incredibly glad I'm here and wouldn't want to cut it short by a minute. So that's a wrap. If you read all that, I'm impressed. Like it on Facebook so I feel cool. Ciao!
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The answer was si, por qué no? We literally bought our tickets the day before leaving and solidified our romantic Valentine's Day weekend plans to ride camels, hang out with monkeys, walk through caves, and experience the most unique culture in the colorful cities of Morocco. We booked the trip through a student excursion program that brings together international students throughout Spain to travel together with everything included- hotels, meals, transportation, etc. We figured this was the safest route for Morocco, and it turned out to be very worth it. We started in Gibraltar, a peninsula at the southernmost tip of Spain that is actually a separate British territory. It was like a mini piece of England. And it wasn't until we were there for a while that it hit me how accustomed to Spain I've become. This was my first trip outside of Spain this semester, my first time ordering food in English and hearing it spoken commonly on the street in almost two months. It felt pretty weird. So there we went to the nature reserve where all the monkeys were. If you ever visit, I advise you to not poke/touch/make any sudden movements, because they will hit you back, harder. While I was laughing at some other monkey jumping after a girl, one of them behind me grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. Not everyone was too thrilled but I thought they were hilarious. Besides that, we walked through the gorgeous St. Michael's Cave, stood at the point where the Mediterranean Sea and Atlantic Ocean meet, and got some good ole fish n' chips before hopping on the ferry to Morocco. If I thought I had a bit of culture shock in English-speaking Gibraltar, I had no idea what I was in for. Morocco was like nothing I'd ever seen in my life, and I loved it. I felt like I got a glimpse of what my brother Eric experienced during his study abroad semester in Egypt, with the Arabic language and Muslim influences everywhere. Of course, people wore long robes, women wore garments covering their heads, sometimes their faces...there was a loud "call to prayer" repeated over a loudspeaker to the whole city. There were belly dancers and Moroccan music at our dinner, there was a man in the back of the rug store that hand-makes fabrics all day with a wooden machine. There were markets along the dirty streets with every type of food laid outside, as fresh as chicken breast right next to the live chickens and fresh-caught fish that I actually saw a cat run up to and grab to-go. What blew me away most about Morocco was Chefchaouen, the blue city. Many of the cities in Morocco are themed a certain color. Out of the places we went, Tangier and Tetuan were white, and Chefchaouen was completely and beautifully blue. It didn't look real. I'll try and let the pictures below do the talking, but they really don't do justice. Walking through the streets of Chefchauoen felt like a different time and planet. Everything was incredibly simple but so lovely, and the people were so peaceful and friendly. They spoke to us in English, saying "welcome" even if we were just passing by on the street. When we denied a man trying to sell things to us, he said "Oh, that's ok. If you don't mind me asking, what's your name? Where are you from? Why are you here? Nice to meet you...etc. etc." I think the people from Chefchaueon are some of the warmest souls on Earth. Our tour guide (Abdul - he was awesome, and informed us with his happy accent that it was his birthday several times) took time to explain to us that to them, religion is not about following strict rules; it's about respecting the world and each other first and inviting everyone to pray in any situation or any place. I liked that. Our last stop was at the "pharmacy" where they make and sell oils in Tetuan. We got a full on description and demonstration of several oils...Moroccan oil for your hair, for headaches, hangovers, muscle pain, acne, anxiety, whatever. You could name any obscure problem and they've got an oil for that. I wound up getting a legit neck massage from the Moroccan dude and buying plenty of goodies for people back home, so I'd say that was a success. I loved venturing outside of Spain with all of these students from all over the world with the one common purpose: to travel and learn. That weekend made me want to see and experience as many different cultures as I can. Going to a place like Morocco opened my eyes to how much I don't know and how much I haven't seen, and how possible it is to connect the world thought traveling. At one point, I imagined myself as a dot on a map. I am in Africa, I thought. My whole life I've grown up with stereotypical assumptions and textbook pictures of other continents. I never thought that when I was twenty one years old, I'd be on this side of the world, communicating in another language and hopping country to country like it's nothing. I definitely did not think that on Valentine's Day I'd be on a camel in Morocco. But here I am, and this dot on the map has only covered a teeny tiny fraction of what's out there. It really puts things in perspective. So many young people I'm meeting over here have already lived and worked in several countries, know at least three languages, are currently learning one more...and I've never known much more than my flat drive from St. Louis to Columbia to the Lake. Really learning Spanish and forcing myself to adapt to these different places is exactly the kind of challenge I needed. This weekend turned out to be my favorite of the semester so far, mostly because we left Alicante with zero expectations, plans, wifi, or boys. Six of us (Lauren, Sami, Shelby, Christine, Christina) took off Friday afternoon for Benidorm, a city northeast of Alicante along the coast. It's a huge vacation destination, mostly for English people, with its long beautiful beaches and nightlife. It's also known for having the tallest buildings in Spain (which is really not saying much at all). We kept calling it "70s Florida" so can imagine that however you want to. When we got there, we wandered around with our backpacks for a few hours, stopping for some awesome sangria at a beachside cafe and stumbling upon a beautiful balcony overlooking the Mediterranean Sea and the entire length of the city and surrounding mountains. With the accordion player, sunset, waves, and the six of us, I'd have to say it was pretty romantic. We still didn't know where we were staying that night, but we could not have cared less. While the rest of us were taking pictures, Sami was chatting with some Spanish vendors that were suggesting hostels, and before we knew it we were following their hand-drawn map until we found ourselves at a sketchy-looking place with beads for doorways that turned out to be the best first hostel experience possible. We stayed in a room meant for four with a big outside balcony with a table. They might as well have given us a five-star hotel room - we were ecstatic. We converted the muggy room into our personal wine bar/hang out spot for the weekend. The next morning we got up and headed to Altea, a cute older Spanish town with all little white buildings stacked on the mountainsides. It was beautiful and practically deserted; the Spanish people don't like to go to their vacation homes in the "dead of winter" at 60 degrees. We hiked through the narrow streets and passageways between houses, finding breathtaking views, churches, and cats walking around every corner we turned. We stopped at a restaurant for some pizza, tapas, and wine before heading back to Benidorm for the night. Altea further proved to me how unique every city in Spain is. It was like it's own little world or something out of a painting; nothing like Alicante and certainly nothing like Benidorm. Sunday morning we left for Calpe, where we knew we wanted to hike but didn't know exactly where or how. From the tram window we could see a huge mountain that was more like a vertical cliff, and we joked that it was the mountain we were climbing. We got to Calpe, hopped on a bus, told the driver we were trying to hike, and were driven directly to the exact mountain we were joking about. With all of our stuff on our backs, we followed the paths around the mountain as they turned from grassy walkways to narrow ledges with slippery rocks, where we had to hang on to ropes to stay balanced along the edge of the mountain and up through a cave. It was nothing short of freaking awesome. The views got more and more incredible as we wrapped around the mountain, from overlooking Calpe and the surrounding cities to the mountain ranges to the Mediterranean Sea. Even the greenery surrounding us on the mountain was like nothing I had ever seen before. That day made me want to hike in different places as much as I can this semester. The goal is to see as much of the world as possible, right? Well the higher you get, the more you can see. :) To reward ourselves for a long hard weekend of beautiful views, we went to a seaside restaurant where we had seriously the best salmon and mussels of our entire lives and - surprise! Lots of wine. So that was our weekend, in short. I left out a few stories here and there, like how a random charter bus in the middle of nowhere took us to the right tram station and how taking advice from strangers worked 100% of the time. Everything went better than expected...if we would have had any expectations to begin with. Also, I don't think I've ever laughed harder than I have in one weekend in my entire life - clearly we needed some girls' time away (from our rough life at our university's beach town...yeah right). I cannot wait for all of our adventures to come! So my museum-based art class was supposed to meet at 8 a.m. on Saturday morning to leave for Valencia...In my defense, it's still dark out at 8 a.m. here and no one in their right mind is out and about at that ungodly hour (can you tell I'm adapting to the culture?). Anyway, I woke up at 8:10 to Pedro gently knocking on my door like the polite host father he is, and I leaped out of bed to call Armando (the man in charge) to see what I could do about being late. Armando said "no pasa nada," which is the Spanish response to literally everything; essentially meaning "no big deal, no worries." He said to come now and they would wait. I flew out the door and went straight to Plaza de Luceros where I found no sign of a bus or human in sight (it's the middle of the night for them, remember). Apparently another girl in our group arrived right after Armando and I got off the phone, he thought she was me, and they took off for the two-hour bus ride to Valencia. Great. I had never been to the train station before, but completely guessed the right street and wound up there checking out departure times and prices. As I was about to swipe my card to buy a 32 euro ticket, a couple came up to me asking in Spanish if I was trying to go to Valencia and if I wanted their extra ticket. Um, yes! I explained to them that I was a student here and my group left without me, which led to them asking me if I wanted to come along and travel with them since I had never been on the trains here before. How could I say no to that? Their names were Melissa and Junior, from Brazil, and I'm assuming they were in their late 20s, maybe early 30s. By the time we got on the train we ended up speaking English, because as their third language it was still less shaky than my Spanish. They had another girl friend, but I don't think she spoke anything but Portuguese and she slept the entire time...I just couldn't leave her out of the story. Anyway, we shared one of those Harry-Potter-like seating sections and got to know each other pretty well. Junior was working in Barcelona but was visiting Melissa in Alicante when they decided to head to Valencia for the day. They thought it was awesome that I'm studying in Spain for a semester at this age. When I said I was 21, Melissa said that's how old she was when she first went to the United States on her own. They strongly suggested that as soon as I graduate I should travel around as much as possible, no matter how little money I might have. It doesn't sound like a bad idea, as long as people like these magically show up offering me "extra tickets" everywhere I go...It's possible. I had been keeping in touch with Armando, but he didn't say anything to the rest of the group about meeting up with me. So when I arrived in Valencia and ran across the street to the charter bus and hopped on, it was a hilarious surprise for my friends. From there we went to the Mercado Central de Valencia, which was way cooler than any market I've ever seen in my life and puts any other's idea of "fresh" to shame...in the fish section, there were live eels slithering around and huge octopus tentacles just laying out for someone to buy (check out the photos below). I strayed over to the fruit section and bought some fresh-squeezed mango juice instead. From there we went to the Museo Nacional de Cerámica (Ceramic museum...lots of pots). Then the cathedral, the Museo de Bellas Artes, and the Museo de Arte Moderno de Valencia. The first two museums used to be palaces, so to me the architecture and design of the buildings were even more impressive than the art inside them. The modern art museum had a couple huge art displays that were made up of hundreds of little metal pieces placed on the ground that appeared to form roads and a little city. It really stuck out to me because it reminded me of my brothers' Brio train tracks that used to take up an entire room when we were little. I would have taken a picture but there were no cameras allowed....and we've learned quickly that museum security is pretty serious. We're not too intimidated by police officers in Spain, but show us a museum security guard and suddenly we're on our best behavior. To sum it up, Valencia was pretty cool. The more cities I see in Spain the more I fall in love with this beautifully historic country. I missed the visit to through the Ciudad de las Artes y las Ciencias at the beginning because of my little travel fiasco, but maybe I'll come back and check it out later. Junior, Melissa, anonymous sleeping friend, and my inability to set an alarm clock made for a more interesting time. Hasta la próxima! |
Renee Fleddermanncopywriter Archives
June 2016
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