Dias Tres y Cuatro

You know how your mom always has those things that you take for granted? Like shampoo, conditioner, and needle and thread. These aren't important until you really need them. Which, on Monday in the case of conditioner and shampoo, I really did need.

In Spain, there are literally hundreds of shops, all specific to their name. Carneceria, Pastelieria, Frutiera, etc. Well, there's also a lot of hairdressers, none of which are entitled Cortarpelo-cieria. Regardless though, they all have lots of shampoo (American, score!) and with American labels. So I choose one at random, on my way home from the first day of class, thinking that I might happen to take a shower that night (or more likely this week). I walk in. The attentive greeter is immediately by my side. I tell her, no necessito cotar mi pelo, pero necessito shampoo. Un momento she tells me. Okay, I think to myself. I'm not sure why I'm waiting when the shampoo and conditioner in their lovely familiar bottles are staring me right in the face, but whatev. So I start browsing through the different labels. Me parece to appear out of nowhere, the 115 pounds-soaking-wet hairdresser begins to feel my hair and give me lots of advice on hair care, por su pelo seco. I just tell her, no, no it's only a little dry, and respond si to every other question. And then I pointed to the bottles of shampoo and conditioner that I wanted. She thought for a moment, fingering my strands again. Si, she muses. And grabs the shampoo. I point to a bottle of conditioner, for a different effect (ladies, you know what I'm talking about: BedHead versus Catwalk, dry and less frizz versus bouncy curls). Pero esta por pelo rezado she tells me. I point to my hair, saying that it is just straightened, that it really is curly naturally. She gives my hair another glance. And then grabs the bottle of shampoo and walks to the counter. I take a look. There are two bottles of shampoo on the counter! I point this fact out. Pero este champu esta condicionante she says, confused. Si, but I want one shampoo and one conditioner! She takes the bottle back. I point directly at the conditioner. Yo quiero este. She grabs a different bottle of shampoo, and heads toward the counter. Almost quince minutos later, I walk out the door: a bottle of champu y condicionar, not the brand ni the effect that I wanted, and paid seventy euros... with the discount. But the ladies were still excited when I left. Tu recibes un regalo con dos botellas! 

Thirty seconds later, I walked past a general-looking store, seeing Pantene Pro-V and Garnier Fructis in the window. Dang. This champu better smell awesome.

En dia cuatro, I happened to break one of the straps on one of the two pairs of cute zapatos that I brought with me. I had to look up the words for needle and thread (they are aguja y hilo) and ask the grandmother of the house where I can buy these things. As a precursor, I don't understand this wonderful woman very well. Ella habla muy rapido; yet at lunch I definitely caught the comment about how salt will make me gorda. She sends me in the direction. I nod and say yes, even though I really don't understand her. But I figure lots of preguntas will help me learn the city even better. I go into a farmecia. No dice. The woman there sends me to the same place la abuela did, which starts with an 'm'. Obviously, this is not helpful. Eventually, I finally found some needle and thread, and when I got to the computer lab for CIUC students, the paraninfo, was able to sew my shoe. 

At the paraninfo though, I knew that I needed to print things for Texas next fall and for firefighting this summer. So I asked the usually helpful clerk at the desk. Lots of nodding, pointing, and directions... I think the place starts with an 's', but I really can't tell with the Spanish slur and lisp of all c's, z's, and s's... I'll just start looking tomorrow...

And note to all: when the ice cream is labeled melocoton con queso, it's good. But it definitely has a distinct cheesy flavor...

Dia Tres

I am sooooo... American. And I love it! Don't get me wrong, I'm not the type who is American and wants to be European. I love our cheap (relatively) electricity, lots of hot running water, and ease of parking in big cities. But. We do not have panaderias, fruiterias, o carnecerias. These, mis amigos, son buenos. 

This afternoon, I took the bus to Universitad de Cantabria, and wandered around for a bit, in a downpour. It started off as such a beautiful day... some amigas and I set off to find the parainfo, the computer lab for the estudiantes de UC. It was one of the days that makes me love Europe: the smells of an old city, people out walking the street, the bakeries and heladieras with gelato... or close enough anyway. The waterfront is fantastic too, I will be sure to include pictures when I make it down there next. We also bought phone cards, made plans for Semana Santa (vamos a Sevilla!) and then parted ways. So when I set out on my own (again, in the downpour) it was a different experience. 

I never found the edificio that I was looking for, but I did find a spectacular vista of the city; the Palacio de Deportes and many of the older buildings of the city, separated by the parks of the university. 

And, I did make one exception to my new health routine for Spain. I had un pasteles, with flaky bread and chocolate, and it was fantastic. But the nice thing about European sweets is that they are rich and flavorful enough, that the thought of running afterwards makes you naseous from the get go. I've been a state officer, so no weight gain isn't too lofty of a goal right? Weight loss might be taking it a little far though. Oh well, that's why they have fire season!

Dia Dos

Another long day! It started off bright and early, when my Irish phone alarm clock brightly woke me up to one of those crazy tunes. Then I promptly decided to go back to bed. A half an hour later, I skyped Russ, and after hearing some of my host-family moving about, went into the salon. Damian was up, and I chatted and watched the Simpsons with him... then the jet lag kicked in. I went back and laid in mi cama, thinking that I was only going to sleep 'like another hour'.

Four hours later, Santos y Violeta wanted to make sure that I was still alive in my coma like state. 

The rest of the day was lazy... and glorious. After a quick breakfast of leche con caca y galletas, I caught up on all the American facebooking, thank you card writing, and skyping I needed. Violeta was watching a movie; a few minutes in, I recognized Gweneth Paltrow, sin her sexy gravelly voice, and con una voz muy high pitched. It was a rated R movie... need I say more? They did tell us that the Spanish have no personal bubbles, and have much affection for eachother. 

The entire OSU class met at Cafeteria Lisboa in the afternoon (7 en la tarde) for a merienda and sangria (if anything makes me gain weight, it's going to be the lovely combination of wine, sugar and fruit). We compared stories: fantastically, there were more than me who had watched movie scenes suggested only for adults, had nodded their head enthusiastically when they didn't understand a word that was said, and had made great friends with their host family. 

Some brave souls of our group who had seen Santander in daylight decided to go to los barrios por unos cervezas. I was not so brave. But as it turns out, Bianca, Jimmy and I ended up in a scary place anyway.

We hopped on Bus numero 13, me not really knowing but thinking that I would just catch the connection to my bus, numero 4, and Jimmy and Bianca very seguros en their route. We knew that we had missed their parada and my connection when we arrived at the Cementarios de Santander. Yep, wordreference.com that. It's cemetary. 

Una hora y media, one cat-call and a confused conversation with an elderly senora later, I found the right bus. At that punto, I realized that my apartment was actually about two blocks down from the closest bus stop (which was where I had gotten off). And right then estaba lluvia. 

Amazingly, I made it to my vecino sin incident. I even unlocked the front door all by myself. I got to what I thought was the door, and tried mis llaves. It didn't work. I looked around, not seeing any identifying numbers on the doors (I am so American). I tried again. And again. Then I heard someone.

Santos opened the door, and laughed. I tried to tell him that I had tried (but I didn't remember the palabra for try: it's intentar by the way), but instead, made him lock me out again so that I could get it to work. Which of course it did. 

All in all, the night ended well. I learned the ENTIRE route of the Santander bus system, watched a soccer game with Santos (It was Espana y Turqueo, y muy deficil por Espana), and I learned some new words such as: regla (o norma), ataquar, defender, y arbitro. 

Definitely going to need to get on Russ to send me my dictionary... and the camera charger. The battery is already getting low! So put in the good word for me when you see him and H. Heffner H. Venga.

La noche es tarde, and daylight savings comes into effect here tomorrow. For those of you who have my phone number, more adventures await me when I try to get them to change the Irish number (cheers Bec!) to a Spanish number so it isn't a Euro per text. 

Love you all, miss you all.

Chao!

Dia Uno

Early morning this morning. Said goodbye to Russ... harder than I thought. Made it about twenty feet, called him and talked till I got on the plane. It was good that way. The 10 hour plane ride to Amsterdam was good, minus the screaming baby. Watched a few movies, got to know my travelling partner a little bit better. Experienced some turbulence at 8000 feet... not a fun experience. Darn those hot air pockets. 

In Madrid, Whitney and I parted ways. I frantically searched for my gate... passed by it twice... before realizing that there was a 30 minute delay anyway. Needless to say, I made it. Tried to speak Spanish twice, and failed. Twice. But I think it was just the American passport that gave it away. 

In Santander, it took me awhile to figure out my phone. It's Irish... always has been, and as far as I can tell, always will be. Finally got ahold of Violeta and Santo, who came and picked me up. I had pictured her from the phone call; yet when a sharp knock at the window I was standing at nearly made me jump out of my DanceCos, I knew that this was the woman. Violeta rushed in a grabbed me, kissed both cheeks... and I was in. Violeta, Santos and Damian are a wonderful family. I think this just might work. But I'm still keeping Oma on standby just in case things change. And I'm buying my ticket back to Madrid; but committing myself to June 4/5. 

You guys all better email a lot.

Oh, and Spain is cold. A lot like Corvallis. You would all feel right at home too!