Parting is Such Sweet Sorrow

This is it. I'm on the bus to Granada, my last move for the year, and it has wifi! My heart is still racing from narrowly making it on board, but a little Swedish xylophone music (Detekivbryan) will take care of that.

My last night in Sevilla was just what I needed it to be. My nueva amiga Courtney and I went to the Teatro de la Maestranza and listened to seville's symphonic orchestra, a 100 person chorus from Malaga, and 4 lovely opera singers perform Verdi's Misa de Réquiem.

It was like water to my soul; cleansing, calming, refreshing. A pure pleasure. For 2 hours I could unwind and process everything that's been happening or just sit and be. Nothing begging my attention except the beauty that filled the room.

After the concert, we went and had tapas near la Plaza de los Vírgenes and had some good ol' fashion conversations: dreams, goals, pasts. Deep conversations are my love language.

Unfortunately I wore the wrong shoes to gallivant on cobblestones at night so I went home around 1 am instead of meeting up with everyone at Alfalfa. While I do wish I got to spend more time with people, I'm glad I went to bed at a decent hour, considering my narrow escape this morning.

Now I'm watching stretches of rolling hills covered with olive groves grow more frequent and spotting the occasional vestige of history in the form of churches, ruins, castles/monasteries which crop out of white washed pueblos. I even see some windmills churning (Don Quixote lives!)

Even though i'm transitioning yet again, peace guards my feet and praise rests on my lips.

Day to Day

Top of Las Setas

I have two days left in Seville! Thankfully I feel like I got to enjoy the pace of life a bit more these past two weeks. In the mornings I walk 20 minutes to CLIC where my Spanish class is held.  In the 5 minutes it takes to walk from my apartment to the bridge I see about 70 kids, parents in tow, migrating towards the primary school on the block. It’s slightly sickening how adorable it can be, especially the dads carrying their kids on their shoulders.  The bridge, el Puente de Isabel, is probably my favorite part of my walk. The river usually has a congregation of ducks or kayackers in the early morning set against a skyline that includes the Torre de Oro (tower of gold), Teatro de Maestranza (an opera house), the towers of the la Plaza de España, and the Cathedral.  It’s pretty common to have a “this is my life!” moment walking across the bridge. After a few winding streets and several sets of stairs, I join nine other participants for our Spanish class

Graffiti is everywhere

Let me just tell you, we are hilarious (por supuesto, no me digas!) We’re convinced Manolo (our teacher) thinks we’re hilarious too. He’s definitely let out some unintentional man giggles. The class is actually pretty cool. Most of it is conversation based with the actual grammar lessons more after the fact. Like on one of our loudest days, he put two model shots on the board and told us to make up personalities for them. We got entirely ridiculous with Javier Alfonso y Jacques. Then he told us they were roommates and we had to think of all the different conflicts they would have. Insert the subjunctive and there you have it. Afterwards he’ll write things we said incorrectly on the board and we have to figure out what’s wrong with them. Then today one person sat with their back facing the class while Manolo would write a problem on the board. The class had to give the person advice on what to do, aka use condicional tenses, while they guessed what the problem was. The cherry on top was that he worked in several of our class jokes (cats, fanta limon, and having a boyfriend who’s 6 years old) into it. 

Pelusa, the precious bunny at my homestay

After class and after signing up for activities CLIC organizes, I walk home and host padres and I have lunch between 2-3pm.  I think I’ve mentioned it, but my señora can cookkkkk. Plus I’m pretty sure she’s a pescatarian so I get tons of delicious vegetable based meals (I’m not a fan of the fish). Yay healthy food! Not everyone is so fortunate. From sal morejo, ropa vieja, solomillo al whisky, plums, yogurt, fresh cheese, and this crazy delicious lasagna-like recipe that’s made with potatoes instead of pasta she has got me covered concerning flavor. I tend to have to turn down food. She tries to put 4 plates in front of me everyday plus offers dessert even though she barely eats anything.  However dinner tends to be just yogurt and fruit around 9 or 10pm.

That’s the other thing; meals are my major source of interaction. I’ll tell them about where I’m going that evening, and they’ll tell me stories about past participants and other random things from the day. I listened to Paco talk about “the perfection” that is Don Quixote for 20 minutes. Apparently if you read a translation, it’s no good. Also you need to learn Latin so you can enjoy it the best. Hah. Meal times really are family times and family dynamics are my favorite. There’s a sense of consistency and familiarity that host parents give that perhaps living with friends or just people your own age doesn’t quite capture.

Matalascañas

Afternoon/evenings have run the gamut so far.  The new additions to my sight-seeing list include Las Setas(the mushrooms) during the day and night, Museo de Bellas Artes and  the Modern Art Museum, a Flamenco class, Casa de Pilatos, the Catedral and Giralda, a day trip to Matalascañas’ beach. Then tomorrow there’s Italica (Roman Ruins) and Friday I plan on going to listen to Seville’s Symphonic Orchestra perform Verdi at the Teatro de la Maestranza.  In between I make time to write emails, upload pictures, watch Doctor Who and Boy Meets World, or to go out to watch a Fútbol game at a bar (you eat breakfast at bars too) and grab tapas with some nueva CIEE amigas. Thankfully Spain has a built in nap time during the hottest part of the day and that provides a guilt free reprieve.

Casa de Pilatos

Aside from the plot of my days I'm also going through some character development.  Nothing the new and uncertain to show you what you cling to or what personality traits rear their hidden heads, like small groups+lots of alone time=Happy Angela. True Confession: I googled "how to make friends as an adult" today, and that's not the first time I've done that either.I just needed a refresher course. At first I thought I was a little apprehensive because I haven't really encountered anyone with a similar core belief system. But after this weekend and hanging out with some lovely people that have completely different views than me, I once again realized what I often say but never quite believe:  I am a (moderate) introvert. It just takes longer for me to trust people, plus the post-college time table for things to develop is also slower.

Anyways, things are feeling mostly easy, breezy and beautiful covergirl. However this Saturday I make the move to Granada, which I am so excited about, but it also means I have to start over/extend my transition state to an entire month. Still, I'm looking forward to it.

Plaza de Epana

Spotlight

Living with a Spanish family is probably the best thing to  improve language skills.

Tonight at dinner, at the lovely hour of 9:45pm, my host family was talking about someone they had visited at the hospital early today. I was in and out of the conversation due to lack of vocab and trouble understanding the Andalucían accent. I wasn’t sure who it was or if they died (something about a cemetery), but I was still trying to keep up because at some point I knew they were going to ask me about it.

I’ve gotten caught off guard a couple times after I’ve given up and tuned out. I don’t know how it is for others, but I have to actively try and understand Spanish. Apparently I have an on and off switch for language comprehension. Anyways they'll eventually ask me questions and I have to admit I stopped listening and I just imagine Bon Qui Qui looking at me saying: rude. Plus acting like you understand when you don't never helps anybody. 

Despite my attentive listening,  tonight’s question did in fact catch me by surprise. Instead of asking me if I understood the conversation, they asked me if I ever had surgery.  At first I was pleased, it felt like a promotion. I usually have to fight to talk about myself or in general. My host family loves to interrupt, talk over, or seemingly ignore what I have to say, but I’ve been told that’s normal. Also I’d usually be fine just listening if the point of living with a Spanish family wasn’t also to improve speaking skills. 

To cut a long story short: I had surgery to remove a benign tumor (est 5x1 inches) curled around my pelvis in Feb 2011.  Benign=NBD (No Big Deal)= I tend to forget about this life fact until I catch a glimpse of the two inch scar on my back and remember what an awful operation it was. For whatever reason when they actually opened me up the tumor was bigger and deeper than realized. Turns because of this they didn't give me enough aesthetic and I felt part of the removal. I was not happy but also drugged, so the doctor's didn't notice my discomfort until I started sobbing quietly and my body started shaking.

I tried to explain that in Spanish and my satisfaction with my promotion wavered.  As always during spotlight moments, words become molasses on my tongue. Plus most of the medical vocab words I know only cover colds and random body pains.  And unlike my mom or my Spanish profe at CLIC (the language school), they don’t understand when I fallback to English.

However I managed to convey my experience via gestures and context clues; ‘twas a tad exhausting. Storytelling isn’t necessarily a strong suit, and due to lack of practice, when I do find myself with an audience I’m never sure of how to precede. Probably because while attempting to speak I’m also running a commentary on the situation to myself (multitasking another strike out in the strong suit column) that goes generally like this; “Wow they are all looking at me. They are not looking away. Keep talking. What was your point? How do people get use to this? Man those stares are unwavering. What are they thinking? Just hurry up and finish.” 

But the whole experience was like a game of charades. I’d set up the sentence with the action or word at the end of my sentence and they all shout out a word to fill in the blank. We did surprisingly well.  Or at least I think we did, considering I was learning the vocab as we went along rather than verifying it.  

All that was to say:

I thoroughly enjoy my host family. They know just where to push and prod when it comes to my language skills.

Exposed

Apparently Spaniards are super confident with their bodies. Well maybe just my señora. She's 56 but looks more like 46. 

So I was in my room working on some things when she and her husband came home from Mass. She went into another room but was asking me about my day. I came out of my room so I wouldn’t be yelling through the apartment and here comes my señora walking down the hall in just her knickers. When I saw her I had a silent  split-second freak out.

"Oh I just went outside”..señora spotted..[WHERE ARE HER CLOTHES?! WHY IS SHE NOT WEARING CLOTHES?! LOOK AT HER FACE! WAS I SUPPOSED TO STAY IN MY ROOM? DON'T FREAK OUT. ACT LIKE ITS NO BIG DEAL] "..to read on the balcony."

Now granted seeing someone in their underwear is no big deal. It’s like seeing someone in a bikini. But bikinis are in the context of the beach. Not in the context of a near stranger stripping and walking down the hall. (She was actually putting on a slip so she would be cooler. We don't have A.C.)

In general I am very much pro-clothes.  I rarely changed clothes in front of my roommate of two years. I don't even like changing in front of my mom. It’s a combination of body issues and having my first roommate when I was 20. It’s just not something I'm used to or needed to change about myself.

I also tend to project my own tendencies on others. I assume people want privacy even when they don't care. Anyways, so seeing my senora nearly naked...I guess was not a big deal, but also not something I was expecting.

Oh Spain