The Puente (Bridge)

I took my first walk from the center back to the apartment in Triana this afternoon-- I needed a break from the bus, and all of the people and pushing and noise that go with it. I realized as I was walking that it was also the first time I had crossed "my" bridge- The Puente Isabel II. It basically provides a straight path from my side of the river (Triana) to the city center, and I had never walked it before this afternoon.

I really enjoyed the walk- being right in the middle of all the people that I'm usually looking at out of the window of the bus. My ankle hurts something fierce-- the walk is approximately 1.5 miles-- but the trade-off of being happy seems to be worthwhile. I'm really pleased with the progress I've made walking, actually, especially when you consider that I only broke my ankle a little over 4 months ago! Go persistence...

I've decided that I'm going to walk home from school everyday from now on, and take the bus in. It's more direct to walk home, and it only takes an extra 10 minutes. And then there's the little side benefit of exercise...maybe I can work off some of this DELICIOUS food I'm being given!

The city is continuing to grow on me, and although I'm not completely happy here yet, the stretches of happiness are getting longer and more frequent.
I miss being able to go out alone at night and be safe; but here at least there is a wide array of places I can go with my new friends.
I miss the smell of fall in New England-- that mix of falling leaves and cold wind that carries the promise of snow; but here I have the warmth of the sun shining on my face and the breeze from the river.
I miss the solitude of walking in the woods...but here I'm finding that I love how human a city sounds, even at all hours of the day.

I take my little moments of happiness when they come, but I'm still searching for the void in the heart of a country girl where a city can find its place.

The Weekend in Amsterdam

**originally written on 09/17/06**

WHEW! What a weekend! I'm finally back in Sevilla, I just finished unpacking, and at last I have a chance to breathe and reflect on the past few days. Friday morning I woke up at 4 am, took the back that I had packed the night before, and went with my friend Heather to the train station, where we took the AVE to Madrid. We got into the city around 9:30, went to the airport, and caught the 1:20 flight to Amsterdam.

Day 1 – Friday

My first impression of the Netherlands was actually one of surprise- it was hot and muggy when we arrived, and I had been expecting cooler, fall-like weather. No sooner had I gotten over that shock when Heather and I had another (worse) one-- a 50 Euro cab ride to the city!! We'll never make that mistake again...

The hostel that I had booked, however, was both pleasant and lovely. It's really a little hole in the wall type place- if there wasn't a sign that said "Youth Hostel", most people would probably walk right by never knowing it was there. The inside of the Hostel's main floor was evocative of a harem...everything was plush or gauzy or draped with fabric, all in rich berry tones that shimmered. The walls were a deep purple-mauve, decorated with gold leaf stenciling and tiny glass jewels. In the waiting area there was a gold chaise pushed up against the wall, underneath a map of the world and a bookshelf filled with guidebooks. The bathrooms were separated from the main area by means of long, sheer curtains, and the stalls were painted a deep blue, with gold-stenciled stars and moons along the ceiling. It all sounds a little gaudy, I know, but all together the effect was quite tranquil.

Heather and I hadn’t been there 5 minutes when I discovered by way of conversation that the girl checking us in (Gina) was originally from Portsmouth—and also happened to know a friend of mine from high school! Talk about your small world, right? Gina took us up the four flights of stairs (windy, leg-breaking stairs, I might add) to the girls dorm, and we began the process of settling in...and by settling in I mean changing for the concert. But I’ll get to that in a minute.

The dorm was actually a converted loft apartment in the center of Amsterdam, although we didn’t realize just HOW central until Saturday. But Friday night was the Jay-Z concert at the Heineken Music hall, and it was all that was occupying our minds at that moment.

Now, I’ll be honest here. I’d actually been planning this trip since before I left the US...I bought my concert ticket two days before leaving the country, and then Heather and I planned the rest once we arrived in Spain. There, the truth is out. I am a sneaky, sneaky little girl.

Before dropping us off, our Cabbie had pointed out the Centraal Station, and told us that we would be able to get to the Heineken Music Hall by Metro. What he hadn’t told us was that our Hostel was incredibly convenient to Centraal Station—less than 5 minutes walking. So, Heather and I got a Metro pass with just enough for the trip, and hopped on the 54 to the Music Hall. At first, we thought that it was the HUGUNGOUS arena that we could see to the left...but then I turned and noticed the building with the giant Heineken Stars...so we went there.
The concert...was...amazing. Quite possibly the best concert I have ever attended. A Dutch rap group opened for Jay-Z (who speaks English), and Dutch rap is really cool, even if you can’t understand what’s being said. Oh, and mom, you were right—everyone swears in English, regardless of their native language. Lazy bums...

Heather and I grabbed seats in the front of the bleachers behind the sound booth, because I didn’t think it would be such a good idea to be caught in the pit with jumping people...me being recently gimpy and all. The seats turned out to have an awesome view, but let me try to give you a picture of this place: When you walk in the front doors, traffic flows to the right, and brings you into a huge, high-ceilinged hallway with the coatroom, food vendors, t-shirts, etc. I got a piece of pizza, and a Heineken...it seemed only appropriate.

I noticed two major differences between a concert in the U.S. and a concert in Holland, which I will share with you now:
1) Cameras and video equipment are NOT confiscated. Had I known this, I would have pictures of Jay-Z. Oh well.

2) You can smoke—anything—inside the Heineken Music Hall. Had I known this, I would have sat farther away from the pot smokers behind me. Again, oh well.
There really are no words to adequately describe the concert...I was completely blown away. I was also totally gratified, because he did "Dirt Off Ya Shoulders", which I LOVE. I was rocking out from the bleachers...I wish you could’ve been there. The best part of the evening, however, was the metro ride home, and I’ll tell you why.

After the concert, people were pouring out of the Music Hall and onto the Metro, and there was this overwhelming feeling of camaraderie...good show, good food, happy people, you know? So, we got onto the Metro car, and it was LOADED with concert-goers...so much so that at one stop I had to get off the train so that people who needed to could exit. As I was standing on the platform, the bells for the doors to close began to ding...I leaped into the car just as the doors slammed shut—on my purse! I started tugging on my bag, while at the same time laughing hysterically, because the stupid thing would not budge. All of a sudden, at least 8 people (including Heather), grabbed either the doors, my bag, or me, all in an effort to help me reclaim my purse. We finally freed the bag, amidst much cheering and laughter, and much to my relief...

Day 2 – Saturday

Saturday, Heather and I woke up around 9. We got dressed, wandered down the street, and had breakfast at a little corner café, where I marveled over the generous portion of thick-cut, juicy bacon; which I hadn’t tasted since leaving home, and which (in conjunction with some freshly squeezed orange juice) made the prospect of my day a bright one.
It took us a little while to get our 24-hour Metro/tram/bus passes, but we finally managed, and hopped on the #17 tram bound for Westermarkt. It was during this ride that we realized what an awesome job I had done finding our Hostel...we were literally 10 minutes away from one of the busiest places in Amsterdam—The Dam (the main square) which is home to the Royal Palace, the National Monument, and Madame Tussaud’s Wax Museum...but that’s a story for a little bit later.

Our first stop was the Anne Frank House, which has been a dream of mine to visit for a long time now. It’s funny...I never liked the book much, probably because I had to read it in class and "analyze" it...but I knew somewhere in my heart that visiting this house would be completely different, and it was. I was moved, nearly to the point of tears a few times. When you see how her family lived, what they went through just to survive...when you can run your fingers over the pictures that she pasted on the wall to cheer up her room...when you can see the stars that they had to wear, and the Swastika painted on her statue by those who would deny the Holocaust...it all hits home, and it hits hard. It was absolutely worth it, though, and I’m glad I went.

On our way back, we stopped at a little shop where I bought an "Amsterdam" bag, and then Heather and I headed back to the Hostel to freshen up before going out to walk around the city. We weren’t going to Madame Tussaud’s until 3, so we had plenty of time to wander. We did a little souvenir shopping, took some silly pictures (like the one of me in the clog), and stopped at a café for a break, and to celebrate being such good travelers! I also had some of the best lemon sorbet I have ever tasted...oh, how I love ice cream! Anyway...

By the time we were done with all that it was 3 o´clock, and it was time for Madame Tussaud’s. Now, if you’re not familiar with Madame Tussaud’s, I’ll fill you in: it is a world famous museum that houses life-like wax figures of celebrities/politicians/etc. In 5 locations...one of which is in Amsterdam. The best part, though, isn’t how very realistic the figures are, or how many there are; but rather the fact that you are allowed—no, encouraged to photograph yourself WITH the wax figures. This can make from some pretty silly pics, as I’m sure you’ll see! The only disappointment was not having my photo taken with Jack Sparrow...but that one cost money that I didn’t have to spend. Heather and I had a blast...I was running around like a little kid, all "OOH! Take a picture of me with James Brown/Pierce Brosnan/Oprah/!!"

A lot of the figures are set up in ways that practically BEG for photos—like Robbie Williams on a pimp bed, or George Clooney seated at a table for two...alone. I can’t remember the last time I had that much fun in a "mueseum"...it was really fantastic.

After an hour of that silliness, though, we were both exhausted, and when we left the museum we agreed it was time for dinner and relaxation. We hit one café for dinner, another one for dessert...and then we went back to the Hostel and pretty much passed out. I had dreams of awesome concerts and famous people...^_^

The vibe in Amsterdam is completely and indescribably unique. The city is incredibly diverse—it looks like something I’ve always dreamed of seeing, where there are so many people of so many colors that there is no clear majority. The Dutch are also very tolerant, it seems. My one regret is that I don’t speak any Dutch at all—it’s a beautiful language, when you really listen to it. I’d like to go back again, for longer...maybe even live there someday. This weekend will definitely go down in my book as one of the best weekend ever...hard to beat, but at least I have a new standard.

First photos from Amsterdam!

They're pretty much all from Madame Tussaud's...but hey, it's in Amsterdam, right? More photos and a full update later today!

Pictures of Amsterdam

Orange blossoms and Sevillanos

I can't recall where I first read about the orange trees in Sevilla, but whoever it was that numbered them made no exaggeration: they are everywhere. Nearly every street is lined on both sides with orange trees, and though they are not in bloom right now, when it is time the city is going to explode with white blossoms. I'll bet they smell fantastic. Even my humble little street has a dozen orange trees all its own, with more around every corner.

The people here are a facinating mix of attributes, both good and bad, a macrocosm of how people are, I suppose. In this city, patience is not a virtue, and you are reminded of that by the constant symphony of horns from passing cars. It isn't that the Sevillanos are rude; rather, they just will not hesitate to beep at you if you do not begin moving the second the light turns green. Actually, it is preferable if you begin moving several seconds before the light turns green. And heaven help you if you try to cross the street without waiting for the proper signal...people will swerve around you and honk wildly, but they will not stop.

In fact, walking in this city is a constant game. The sidwalks are tiny (if they even exist), and they seem to start and end at random, as though they were an afterthought...which they may well have been. It is inadvisable to walk to close to the street while on a sidewalk, because you are liable to be hit by the mirror of a passing vehicle, but people here walk in the streets at will, because there is nowhere else for them to go. The acera, sidewalk, is fascinating in and of itself, because although the placement and size are poor, a great deal of artistry went into its making. Each sidewalk is a mosaic of slate-gray tiles of all shapes and sizes, with no recognizable pattern. It makes me wonder how something so useless could be so lovely, all at the same time.

Sevilla is a city of tiles and mosaic...they are everywhere, from the most modest kitchen to the most fabulous Cathedral. My school is filled with mosaics, on almost every wall in every hallway and classroom. They are endlessly fascinating, and heartbreakingly beautiful. In fact, the combined beauty of all the mosaic in this city is enough to take ones breath from them (especially when you think about how LONG it all took to put together). My favorite thing about the tiles is how you find them in the most unexpected places...turning a corner while in the process of being lost, for example, only to find a huge mosaic in front of you depicting the Roman past of this fair city.

The people, too, are a surprising mosaic. The women here dress well; very well. It isn't so much for competition, however, as it is a great pride in their femininity. Fans are still perfectly acceptable accessories here, and shoes are practically a religion. You are as likely to see a woman dressed to the nines here as you are to see someone wearing a GAP t-shirt in the States. Everywhere you turn, fashion is palpable...this city is definitely into appearance. Even the men here are fashionable. Capris are a big thing for men right now, especially considering the heat, but it is something that most American men wouldn't be caught dead wearing. The most interesting thing, however, is how these people see themselves. When they think about heritage, they do not see race, or Europe. Instead, the Sevillanos see the Romans and Phoenicians and Carthaginians who settled this land millenia ago... I wonder what it must be like to have such a long view of your past.

Today, however, has been a brisk 85 degrees, practically winter compared to the heat we've been having. Everyone is smiling more today, a little calmer, maybe a little less likely to press that horn...maybe not. Things are changing in this city, to be sure. Indeed, things are changing in all of Spain. But I think that honking your horn is a universal pleasure, and I won't be hearing the last of the carhorns for a long time to come.

Pictures!!!

Finally, some photos for your viewing pleasure:

First Pictures of Sevilla

Breathing and Word Pictures

I can do that...both of those things, actually.

Here goes:

Sevilla is a city the color of clay that has been left out to bake in the sun; white and chalky, with sprigs of green stuck in between the crevices on walls where what little water there is gathers. My apartment complex is also white, right down to the marble stairs that bring me to the second floor where I live. The buildings fit together like two combs face to face, where the interlocking teeth are really tiny streets and sidewalks that you must navigate.

The door to the apartment is heavy, made of dark wood with a glossy brass knob smack in the middle. When you push it open, the first thing you see is the livingroom, with everything; the walls, the furniture, the curtains as white as the streets of the city. The curtains open out onto a tiny sliver of patio, and if I´m lucky, Señora has left the window open to allow for a breeze from the hot calle. The kitchen and the two bedrooms are off of the livingroom, everything as white as the next, and the tiny little bathroom with the two foot square shower where I douse myself with icy water every night before I try to fall asleep.

Then there is my Señora, sitting in her armchair (that is covered with a clean white sheet)knitting and watching her favorite novela. Her blond hair is usually in rollers by the time I get home from classes, and she wears a little house-shift instead of real clothes, because the heat is too much inside of the apartment. I walk into the kitchen then, and fill a glass with ice and water to try and drown out the heat in my head. The heat is everywhere, like waves, the humidity filling you up until everything spins; but water helps to clear the way to thinking again.

Then I wander into my room, tiny and clean, white and neat and starched. I turn on the fan, flop on the bed, and slip off to sleep for awhile.



Here´s your phrase for the day:

Echar una siesta: To take a nap.

example: Voy a echar una siesta. I am going to take a nap.

Hits you like a brick.

I feel completely off my game today...like I don´t belong, like I´m a fool for thinking I can learn this language, like if there was a plane leaving RIGHT NOW I would be on it...

I kind of want to cry.

The thing is, I never realized before how all of the little readjustments can add up into one big ball of "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON???" Like how people tend to walk in the streets because the sidewalks suck, or how no one seems to care if they clip you with their mirror, or what dickheads the waitstaff in bars can be once they realize that you´re not Spanish. Even the good things; the food, the tv, the buses...it just makes me tired.

Then, to top things off, I realized that people in one of my classes were writing lengthy notes about the subject matter in Spanish, while I was copying down key words and trying to stay on top of what the hell the Professor was getting at.

I feel like a fake.

I feel very American, and very homesick.

Blog for 9/4/06

I find myself being surprised at how comfortable I feel in this city after such a short period of time. I think it really helps that my host mother is an angel, and I´ve made a couple of really awesome girlfriends.

Today was the start of classes- I´m taking 4 total: Grammar, Present Day usage, Spanish-American Literature, and Regional Folk Dance. Actually, 5 classes; I have Spanish Civ twice a week. And I´m supposed to be taking a Current Events class, but they double-scheduled me with another class, so I don´t know what´s going to happen with that.

One thing I´ve noticed about my professors here is that they all talk A LOT. Windbags, one and all...but at least they are charming and intelligent windbags. ^_^ I think they´re afraid that if they don´t say something six different ways, we poor little anglos won´t know what the heck is going on. I don´t know...maybe they´re right...but I think it´s a wee bit too hot for so much chatter.

Speaking of HOT, it was 42 degrees here today...Celsius, that is. Let me break this down for you: That´s 100 degrees Fahrehnheit, plus humidity. ¡UGH! According to the Sevillanos I´ve asked, this type of heat is extremely unusual, even for this time of year. We´re having a heat wave! All of Spain is, to be totally accurate. However, I was also told that each day in September is more beautiful than the last, and that by October the city is paradise. I am SO looking forward to that!

I would like to close by saying that I have discovered a love for Café con Leche, which is in essence a shot of espresso mixed with warm frothed milk, and sugar. It´s delicious, it´s cheap, and there´s a café just around the corner from my school that makes a fine cup. It´s easy to see why the Sevillanos like to spend so much time in cafe´s and bars-- no one rushes here. Actually, I think this little café, the Sierra Mayor, is destined to become "my spot" here in Sevilla...it´s convenient to school, the prices are extremely reasonable, the waitstaff is pleasant, and it´s frequented by locals and foreigners alike. Plus it has great atmosphere...I´ll post some photos later. For now, it´s bedtime...I have a long, hot day to look forward to tomorrow.
¡Buenas noches!

Several days worth of blogs...

Let me preface this by saying that I´ve been keeping a journal since the day I left, I just haven´t had a chance to post anything. So here it is, all at once, for your viewing pleasure, Dear Reader. Enjoy.


8/31/06
I finally have a chance to breathe, now that my bags are checked, I´m on the AVE, and I´m actually going to make it to Sevilla on time! There is a God, and all my many prayers have been answered, at least today. And, my plan to get into Sevilla worked, even if it has been a little on the expensive side. The good news is that my return ticket is good for 60 days, so that will come in handy. I guess I´ll do my best to start at the beginning...

The flight to London was not the most pleasant I´ve ever had-- it wasn´t so much the plane itself as the fact that my sinuses were acting up, and I felt fuzzy and disjointed, and sleeping was nearly impossible. I did manage to sleep, finally, in the terminal at Heathrow (yeah, I almost missed my connecting flight to Madrid. Good thing I´m a light sleeper!)

9/2/06
Sorry to leave off with the cliffhanger-- I fell asleep again on the train en route to Sevilla, and pretty much didn´t fully awaken until sometime last evening. Obviously, I woke up enough in Heathrow to catch my flight; albeit just in the nic of time. I basically hurled my backpack at the lovely Heathrow security agent before running to my gate in time for final boarding call. Actually, it wasn´t until I was finally winging my way toward Madrid that everything sunk in, and suddenly I was REALLY excited to be here. My plane hadn´t crashed/been hijacked, I think I flew over a portion of the Pyrenees (so pretty), and my plane would be landing in Spain within 30 minutes...oh yeah, I was excited.

Madrid Barajas is a GINORMOUS airport...when I disembarked from the plane I walked up three levels of ramps, and then through a half mile of moving walkways, just to get to passport control. Then I had to get on an elevator, go down five stories, and wait for a tram that would take me the fifteen minute trip to get to the three separate escalators that would take me to baggage claim. Read that three times, then imagine doing it jet-lagged. It was that much fun. The whole process took me about 40 minutes, and then I waited another 20 for my bags to come up.

After that, I caught a taxi to the train station. One thing I can say is that the majority of the cab drivers I´ve had here have been exceedingly nice. This one pointed out all the sights of Madrid to me as we drove to the station-- The Prado, the Reina Sofía, the park, the botanical gardens...it was really cool. Then he changed some of my money so that I had coin Euros, and sent me on my way with a ¡Buen suerte! (Good luck). I made it onto the 2:00 pm train by the skin of my teeth-- I bought my tickets 15 minutes before departure! When I got onto the train, I practically collapsed into my chair, and slept all the way to Sevilla.

The night in the hotel was fine-- everyone in the group is really nice, and still speaking in English (surprise!. I think that everyone´s pretty freaked out...I know I am. Anyway, we had a short orientation that first night, and then dinner, where I started to make some friends finally. I sat with three girls, Heather, Jessie, and Raven. Raven is actually here with a BROKEN FEMUR. Poor thing. Thank God her apartment has an elevator, or she´d be screwed.

Friday was a big day...first thing that morning we did a walking tour of the downtown area, half of which is under HEAVY construction. I was mistaken before when I said that Sevilla already had a metro. They don´t. They´re putting one IN. Unfortunately, the construction area encompasses the entire busline that I should be using, so I´m still working out alternatives for getting back and forth to school. The other thing that sucks is that all the major tourist attractions (The Giralda, La Catédral, and the Real Alcazár) are all in this area too, and covered in scaffolding/junk, so I don´t think I´ll be getting any good pictures until next semester. Oh well!

After the walking tour we went to the Center, which is far more beautiful than any of the photographs on the website gave any indication. The walls are tiled in a very Middle Eastern fashion, there are two courtyards (one with a fountain), there´s the gate that the Center is famous for, and huge vaulted ceilings. Everything is marble and glass, and it´s just gorgeous (look for pictures soon!) The center is only about 5 minutes away from the Downtown area of the city (SHOPPING!), and less than a minutes´s walk from a tiny little convenience store (Estanco), and I darling little café where the girls and I like to sip cold beverages while hiding from the afternoon sun.

Later Friday morning we took a Spanish placement test, which all of us were complaining about, and then...it was time to meet our host families!

We walked back to the hotel from the Center, and took our bags down to the lobby. Three of the professors were outside waving down cabs. After about 30 minutes wait it was finally my turn to go. My cabbie was female (a first), and she chatted with me about how brave I was for coming, and how nice my host mom was sure to be, and how much Spanish I would learn by May (all nice things to hear!). When we arrived at my new "home", I realized two things: One, I wasn´t in New Hampshire anymore. My neighborhood here is a haphazard maze of streets with apartment buildings on all sides, tucked off in a corner of the Barrio known as Triana (which is, according to all the Spaniards I´ve spoken to, a little city all its own). The second thing that I realized was that I had no clue how to get inside the building...but my cabbie came to the rescue. She not only called up to my Host Mom to let her know I arrived, she then helped me carry my bags up the two flights of stairs to the front door. I didn´t know how else to thank her, so I gave her a HUGE tip (which is not part of the cab culture in Spain, so I think she appreciated it).

Then it was just me and my Host Mom, Ángeles Camacho García. She greeted me at the top of the stairs with a "dos beses" (the kiss on both cheeks), and she has hardly stopped talking since we met! Her name is pronounced without the "s"-- An-heh-ley-- and that´s what I call her. She calls me "niña" or "guapa" (beautiful). She´s very sweet, although she gives me WAY too much food, but I had barely been in her house 15 minutes when she told me that her home was my home now too, and that I should treat it accordingly. I do feel very welcome there, and I think that it will be a good match, as well as a comfortable place for me to live.

Ok, we´re almost up to present time! Yesterday we took our first trip, visiting the monastary of La Rábida in Huelva, where Columbus spent a year and a half planning his trek. Maybe if he´d spent another 6 months studying the map he would´ve actually found India...anyway, I think it says a lot about me that my favorite thing in the museum was the painting depicting Columbus on his death bed. ^_^ (Don´t worry Mom, I took a picture for you!) I´m such a bad girl...

After La Rábida we walked to El Museo de los Tres Caravelas...which houses scale replicas of the Niña, the Pinta, and the Santa Maria (are you following the theme here?) I took a few pictures of/on the Santa Maria, but honestly it was less exciting than the Mayflower II, so I went into the air-conditioned gift shop and looked around for a bit before getting back on the bus to go to the beach. OH! I almost forgot to mention the GIANT statue/dolls depicting King Ferdinand and Queen Isabella. I took a picture with Isabella...keep an eye out for that one!

The beach in Huelva was AWESOME, and I didn´t even get burnt. Yay! First of all, this was the biggest damn beach I have ever seen...it had it´s own carnival! (I took a picture of the camel). There was also a very nice beach front bar, where I spent about two hours just chilling out with 15 or so other CCCSérs, enjoying refrescoes (sodas) and tinto de verano (red wine with ice and seltzer water) before heading down to the water to swim. The ocean was warm and beautiful, and I spent at least an hour just bobbing around, and then another hour toasting myself on the sand-- it was fabulous. I slept most of the way back to Sevilla on the bus, and that pretty much brings us to today, Sunday.

On Sundays, nothing happens. All the shops are closed, it´s hotter than blazes outside )I imagine, because it´s 90 degrees F in the apartment, and I don´t want to go out), and people either stay inside or spend the afternoon lazing about in a café. Later tonight when it cools off, Heather and I are going to go figure out what bus route will take us closest to school...we think it´s 43, but we´ll find out for sure later. Classes begin tomorrow morning at 9...I need to be there between 8:15 and 8:45 to pick up my schedule. Expect more from me later!