Lecciones de Espana

Los barres... el primer fin de semana

Spanish bars can be picked up and placed in Corvallis, with only minimal collateral changes. For instance, it's obvious who is American when an english song comes on. And likewise, it's obvious who is Spanish when a spanish song comes on. But hey, who cares right? We all dance... just not all of us can shake our hips LIKE THAT. When I walked into the house at half past two, after a night out on Saturday, Violeta woke up and asked, you are home already? Esta temprano! Apparently, all the young people stay out until five or six in the morning.

This was definitely confirmed with Fernando. Now, Fernando is our speaking partner (us being myself and Michael, another student from OSU). I was a little worried when we first met, because one of the first things he said was about going to a fiesta, and it made me think that I was probably going to have to be the lame duck, and dodge out. I don't like going to parties or bars where I don't have a person that is going to make sure some muy suave spanish guy doesn't whisk me away to places that I don't want to go. 

But regardless of my fear of having to be lame, we meet at the Ayuntamiento, underneath the clock, right at 5 as scheduled. We walked for some time, saw a little more of the city that I hadn't explored, and just chatted. It turned out to be actually fun; we all corrected eachother, in english and spanish.

After walking, we decided to go to a bar for a beer before we split up. As we were talking, the subject turned to drinking games... and we spent nearly an hour trying to explain, him in ingles and us in espanol the different games. I mean seriously, who knows the spanish word for ping-pong ball? (It's pelota del ping pong, by the way) As it turns out, the spanish play drinking games in bars (who knew), but usually only in the ones owned by the people with the ojos... at this point, Fernando pulls the corners of his eyes out, into almond shapes. Yup, we caught on :) They use dice, dados, and do way more drinking of cali-mochos... 5 pitchers for only 15 euros! Think of the trouble we could cause...

The whole conversation, which ended pleasantly, made me realize how ethnocentric we truly are. We were not able to just listen to him tell us the games... we had to convert everything to english, and compare it to life in Corvallis. We had to tell him how we said things, like 'oh, we call that getting 'blacked out'" or common phrases that we have in the young adult life, as an estadounidense. Is that really necessary though? Aren't we here to learn their culture, not impose ours on them? But this is a very American way of thinking. That everything we have is bigger and better. And in some (many) cases, it's true. Waterheaters. Heating systems in general. Houses. Toilets. Showers. Showerheads. Cheap clothes. Lights. Electricity. Fridgerators. Microwaves. Dishwashers. Washing machines.

But do these things really matter? These people all have a very close standard of living; you know more things about your neighbor than most people would really want to know. But they can survive the noise, and lack of personal bubble enough to kiss each other on the cheeks when they see each other. And what a life.

I love my life in the United States. I love being an American, for what we stand for, and that our country doesn't depend (for the most part) on the state of other countries. And I love that we can build the houses that we want because we have the space and the land, and it's easy to buy, if you have the money. And if you don't have the money, all you have to do is get a job. But the thing to remember, is that our way is not the best. Our STUFF, is not the best. It's just a different standard of living. We call it higher, but really it's just a different perspective. 

This may mean that I am slowly working my way out of the denial stage, and into the adaptation stage... yet the American music played everywhere is really disorienting

El fin de semana uno

It's really interesting, culture. For instance, to a Spaniard, there are only 5 continents: Europa, Asia, Africana, Oceanica, y America. And you also can't cash checks. Estoy un problema!

 

Today though, was the true test of my listening and speaking skills that I have learned in week one. I went to the Correos, to send the package. I had no idea what to do, so I filled out a sheet, similar to the one that you would fill out at Kinkos or a Post Office in the US. Plus everyone else was doing it. Cuando en Roma, si?

 

My number was finally called. After much finger pointing and gesturing, and my simple phrase,Necisito enviar... (which is where it ended because I didn't think to look up the word for package), the clerk got the gist. But then, it happened. Tu quieres lkajs;dlfabngt;at? She asked, pointing to my slip with the address that I had filled out. Uhhh… (it’s the same in both languages) But what is the difference? She responded, but I didn’t know what she said. Mas rapido? No… Will it still get there if I send it without this slip? I asked. Aqui, she tells me, turning her computer screen. There is a two euro difference in the price. Meanwhile, I still have no idea what this strange word means. Si, solo ordinario, I replied. She laughed, looked at me, and laughed again. Lo siento! I’m sorry, I told her. Es no problem, she tells me. Yankees.

 

Did you know, although this has yet to be confirmed with literature, that when the monarchy in Spain changed to a combination monarchy-parliament, they made all the residents of Santander princes and princesses in order to bypass the land tax that was upon the citizens of the monarchy? No wonder some of these reyes are going to drown when it rains… and rain it does.

 

Tomorrow is spear throwing day… more exciting stories to come!

Miercoles, Semana 1

We are really not so different in los Estados Unidos. We have a lot of the same problems that they have in Europe; economia, construction, and los adolescentes. I have realized, dear brothers, that you were not so weird growing up after all. The 15 year old that lives in this apartment is concerned with the same things that you were (or in most cases, still are. Broma. But seriously). His pelo, las ropas, sus gafas... all these things translate over into wanting to look cool, no matter what location in the world. Los chicos! Is all Violeta will say.

My profesor, Manolo proves to be a character. We were talking about the relationship between Spain and Portugal, and he tells us this: Portugal no exista. Doesn't exist? I just saw it on the map, we all think in our heads. No, no es como Canada y los Estados Unidos. There are no problems with Canada and the United States... and our borders touch, for a large part. But it is as Manolo put it: a Canadian and un estadounidense are sitting next to one another. One asks, Tu eres Canada? the other replies Si, to eres los estados unidos, and he replies si. Oh! They both comment. They look up and away; no more is said. Es como espana y portugal, Manolo says. My mujer said, let's go to Portugal! Do you like Portugal? And Manolo replied, Si, me gusta Portugal. But, Manolo tells the class, Nos viajabamos nunca. Because Portugal doesn't exist. But in the case of Francia or Mexico, hay problemas! Mexico is.....!&*$%^!!!! Y Francia es... *(&$%#!!!!! Yep... these countries are definitely both on the map.

Oh, and another point about Manolo to mention. He knocks over water bottles without warning, because he says, me gusta mucho. If only one could do Manolo justice through cuentas...

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!