For the first time in 24 years Spain is going to the finals of Eurocup -- we beat Russia 3-0 last night under the beating rain of Vienna and the eyes of millions of fans. Watching the game at a restaurant/bar here in Sevilla was less exciting than I had anticipated, but fun none the less. Afterwards we spent our final night in Sevilla at our favorite bar by the river, talking and reminiscing (i´m sure i just misspelled that). By the grace of God my roomate and I both dislike staying out late, so we came back home at the early hour of 2am. This morning I got up early to beat the intense mid-day heat so I could do my last bits of shopping. Now I´m just killing time...it´s too hot to walk around the city but too early to go back home. And perhaps I am avoiding packing, because I know that means I´m really leaving.
This trip has been unlike anything I´ve ever experienced -- the people, the places, and the experiences were nothing I could have anticipated and nothing I will ever experience again. To think that a month and a half ago I was walking into the Dallas airport with forced confidence to cover up my anxiousness for flying alone and then going to a new place to be surrounded entirely by people I didn´t know -- it is amazing. I look at the friends I have made and laugh at my vague recollections of first impressions. Was I really in Madrid and friendless not too long ago? And such judgements I passed even in the first minutes of laying my eyes on the group of lethargic ISA students in the Madrid airport taunt me now, reminding my of how much I don´t know. My roomate and I had a lengthy conversation last night during our 30-minute walk back home about "the game" that people (especially girls) our age play. This has been the first time that I have been surrounded by people who play the game -- I have been so blessed with my high school friends and new college friends, who are not interested in playing the game. It is a game of strategy, and I also see now that it is by no merit of my own that I do not participate in it. The strategy begins to be laid even in the first moments that we meet each other. The girls at the airport who could stand out and the guys who could play cool earned bonus points that rolled over to the whole trip. You also get points for every time people see you with an alcoholic beverage in your hand, and you get tripple points if the alcoholic beverage is accompanied by spaniards of the opposite sex. It is especially important to form alliances, connected by bonds of common dislike that is expressed under the table when the player in question is not present. And when there is not a person to discuss it is of utmost importance that you find something to complain about, and there is never a lack of such topics in a foreign country where "the unfamiliar" can be discussed as "the ridiculous". It is also of utmost importance that you practice your game face: for girls the lean-in group pose to fill the pages of facebook, and for guys the disinterested smile and leaned-back pose -- prefferably with a group of girls around you. It is a game and I´m not sure what the goal is or what the prize is for winning. Seeing the game being played on a concentrated, small scale of the 100 ISA students has renewed my appreciation for my friends, but also given me a new respect for people who I never before understood. Those who play the game are not bad people, and in fact there are amazing depths to be discovered if you are willing to ignore the game play.
Blah bla blah...this is turning into rambling.
Spain is amazing, this trip is amazing, and going home will be amazing. Fanta limón is also amazing, and I am amazingly sad that it does not exist in the United States.
ciao.
Jun 27, 2008
Jun 26, 2008
fin.
Well, almost. Today is my last day of classes, and tomorrow night I get on an all-night bus to Madrid so that I can spend the day in airports and airplanes, and then soon be in the arms of my own family. I am sad to be leaving this place that has just started to feel like home, but I am even more excited about seeing my friends and family. The most beautiful scenery in the world is that of familiar faces.
Summer has swallowed up Sevilla, and she is burning in its insides. Yesterday´s high here was around 106 or 107 -- Saturday´s high is supposed to be 111. It is intense. I am excited about air conditioning! Speaking of heat, lots of people just walked in and they smell big time like b.o..
Obviously I don´t have much to say............
tonight is the big game -- russia vs. spain. If spain wins they go to the semifinals or finals or whatever it´s called. I´m going out with my friends to take part in the insanity of watching fútbol games in public. Apparently we have to get there like 1n hour early so it doesnt fill up. I´m so excited.
Thats it....i´m hot, and that´s making me tired.
Summer has swallowed up Sevilla, and she is burning in its insides. Yesterday´s high here was around 106 or 107 -- Saturday´s high is supposed to be 111. It is intense. I am excited about air conditioning! Speaking of heat, lots of people just walked in and they smell big time like b.o..
Obviously I don´t have much to say............
tonight is the big game -- russia vs. spain. If spain wins they go to the semifinals or finals or whatever it´s called. I´m going out with my friends to take part in the insanity of watching fútbol games in public. Apparently we have to get there like 1n hour early so it doesnt fill up. I´m so excited.
Thats it....i´m hot, and that´s making me tired.
Jun 25, 2008
But I was just starting to get comfortable here...
Two more days...just two days.
I just finished the first of my two finals, and it was not bad. My spanish professor is amazing -- he is one of those people who loves what he does so much that he couldn´t do anything else if he tried. He was made to teach, and to contage his passion to each and every one of his students. (¡no me contagies!) When he talks to us about arabic art and architecture, I know it´s because he thinks it is fascinating and he wants us all to share in his fascination. That is what teaching is all about -- that is how every class should be. He gets so excited about teaching that he usually ends up spitting and sliding around on the marble floors as his gestures fight with his words for prominence.
Last night, as part of my conviction to take full advantage of my last week here, I met up with several girls to go find a small flamenco bar. It was a very neat place -- too cool for air conditioning, apparently. In the front room a small group of ragged musicians filled the worn, wodden walls with spain´s soundtrack. we pushed our way through the bodies of sweaty listeners to pass into the back room -- the flamenco room. I wish with all my might that I could put words to the enchantment of flamenco, but I cannot. Nobody can. I am often more enchanted by the faces of the musicians and dancers than their movements or music because it is so human. How obvious to say that their faces are human, but the expressions on their faces are not fabricated or made by a mold -- they are truly, raw human. Kim -- I wish you could have been there last night. As I sat there watching the movements of their bodies, hands, and feet, I saw your enraptured face and heard your squeal of delight. I have videos, but it´s just not the same. The smell of sweat lingered in the still air with that of sangría, which was flowing by the pitchers-full (although I stuck to water last night). Finally around 1:30, which is early by spanish standards, we made our way home.
This morning after a walk that, in the noon heat, felt like an eternity, I made it to the other side of town where the offices of Cáritas, a charity organization, are located. I went in hopes of attaining an interview, and I kind of got one. The woman I talked with came out of a meeting to answer my questions, so I had to keep it short, and she did the same with her responses. Despite the short answers, it was good. It is so great to hear about the acts of charity and love that people do all around the world. I´ve been studying history and government here, and sometimes it really makes me depressed and lose hope in mankind.
Not much else besides lots of heat, a test, and still counting down.
I just finished the first of my two finals, and it was not bad. My spanish professor is amazing -- he is one of those people who loves what he does so much that he couldn´t do anything else if he tried. He was made to teach, and to contage his passion to each and every one of his students. (¡no me contagies!) When he talks to us about arabic art and architecture, I know it´s because he thinks it is fascinating and he wants us all to share in his fascination. That is what teaching is all about -- that is how every class should be. He gets so excited about teaching that he usually ends up spitting and sliding around on the marble floors as his gestures fight with his words for prominence.
Last night, as part of my conviction to take full advantage of my last week here, I met up with several girls to go find a small flamenco bar. It was a very neat place -- too cool for air conditioning, apparently. In the front room a small group of ragged musicians filled the worn, wodden walls with spain´s soundtrack. we pushed our way through the bodies of sweaty listeners to pass into the back room -- the flamenco room. I wish with all my might that I could put words to the enchantment of flamenco, but I cannot. Nobody can. I am often more enchanted by the faces of the musicians and dancers than their movements or music because it is so human. How obvious to say that their faces are human, but the expressions on their faces are not fabricated or made by a mold -- they are truly, raw human. Kim -- I wish you could have been there last night. As I sat there watching the movements of their bodies, hands, and feet, I saw your enraptured face and heard your squeal of delight. I have videos, but it´s just not the same. The smell of sweat lingered in the still air with that of sangría, which was flowing by the pitchers-full (although I stuck to water last night). Finally around 1:30, which is early by spanish standards, we made our way home.
This morning after a walk that, in the noon heat, felt like an eternity, I made it to the other side of town where the offices of Cáritas, a charity organization, are located. I went in hopes of attaining an interview, and I kind of got one. The woman I talked with came out of a meeting to answer my questions, so I had to keep it short, and she did the same with her responses. Despite the short answers, it was good. It is so great to hear about the acts of charity and love that people do all around the world. I´ve been studying history and government here, and sometimes it really makes me depressed and lose hope in mankind.
Not much else besides lots of heat, a test, and still counting down.
Jun 24, 2008
3...2...1...
Not a whole lot to write about today other than the fact that I only have 3 more days in this country. Yesterday after classes I went to the river with several girl friends and a little bit of tinto de verano, and we spent hours sitting on the shores laughing and swapping stories. It was wonderful and relaxing. This has been such a unique experience in terms of getting to know people -- I never could have anticipated the way it has turned out.
I´m doing research now about social services offered in Spain; I have to write a 15-20 page paper between now and the beginning of August in order to complete my grade for the class I´m taking here.
This morning my host dad was in the kitchen when i went in for breakfast. It was so awkward. We avoided each other´s glances, and eventually he made some comment about the weather to whichI clumsily responded, and that was about it. Oh, to be back home in my own kitchen where I don´t dread the communication breaches that follow anyone but my roomate into the room!! Soon...soon. 3 days and then an eternity of traveling, and I´m there.
I´m doing research now about social services offered in Spain; I have to write a 15-20 page paper between now and the beginning of August in order to complete my grade for the class I´m taking here.
This morning my host dad was in the kitchen when i went in for breakfast. It was so awkward. We avoided each other´s glances, and eventually he made some comment about the weather to whichI clumsily responded, and that was about it. Oh, to be back home in my own kitchen where I don´t dread the communication breaches that follow anyone but my roomate into the room!! Soon...soon. 3 days and then an eternity of traveling, and I´m there.
Jun 23, 2008
i sizzle, i scorch, and now i pass the torch...
I am sunburned, but happy.
Saturday was our final ISA excursion, so we all met at 8:30 in the morning to ride to Cádiz, a beach town not far frm Sevilla. The bus ride was less than pleasant for me, and somewhat reminiscent of Forrest Gump. Having arrived late, I had no choice really of where to sit, and ended up in the back of the bus with the "in crowd" of our group. Hours before the first traces of sunburn, I felt the burn of being unwanted. The ride back, however, was much better. I sat with a new friend with whom I talked about God and poverty and traveling. We first stopped in Jerez, a city near Cádiz, to see a horse museum. I can see the confused look on your faces now as you read....a horse museum??? Fret not, dear reader, we all felt the same way -- especially in conjunction with our anticipation of the long-awaited beach. The stables of the museum (which contained real LIVE horses) reawakened my lifelong dreams to someday have horses of my own. I´m not sure how that works with also being a world traveler. I don´t think horses are especially fond of flying. Oh well -- all minor details. Anyhow, we drug our feet through the museum and finally made it to Cádiz, where a small group of us first climbed to the highest tower of the cathedral for a truly breathtaking view of the town, which is located on a small peninsula. Saphire blue water smiled at us from all sides, and the whitewashed walls of the monolopy-esque buildings reflected the majesty of the sun. The cool breeze refreshed our weary bodies (weary because we got lost in the winding streets for nearly 30 minutes before finding the right building) and I have never felt so certain in my life that if I truly wanted to I could fly. But instead of flying we descended the dream-like spiral of the tower, and then walked to the beaches.
Almost as numerous as the grains of sand that danced carelessly with the waves were the people laid out on that sand. Umbrellas, bikinis, and beach towels were part of the mosaic that Nature designed to be tan and blue. It was insane -- but awesome. We found a spare plot of sand to set our things down, and then dashed into the cool, clear waters. I forget that the ocean can be clear blue and the beaches soft white. Texans don´t have very good beaches to compare to. But here I could see my feet beneath me as they sunk into the muddy sand, and the perfect sized waves tossed us around enough to feel its movement a part of my own pulse without having to struggle to maintain contact with the air. I am always amazed at the increased bouyancy of salt water -- I felt a little like Bill Nye as I made remarks about this. I have yet to find a sensation more relaxing and freeing than to float atop ocean waves, all the faces around me erased except that of the Sun. If it weren´t for the salt water filling the tiny canals of my inner ear and the UV rays that I know were my invisible enemy, I could have laid like that for the whole day. I suppose I need not go on about the wonders of the beach, as most of my readers will have known them themselves, and so my words, pale in comparisson to the reality, are pitiful. I will comment, however, on the unwritten allowance for toplessness on European beaches. It was neither shocking nor disturbing, only strange. Again I wondered about the American stigma about nakedness, but not so much so that I was convinced to remove my own top. After a day at the beach, I was so exhausted that our attempts once back in Sevilla to go see some live music all but failed, and I happily came back home and to sleep.
Sunday morning I reluctantly woke up to go to the bus station and meet my friend, and we left for Ronda, a small town in the mountains famous for its gorges and bridges. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into or what the day would bring, but that was half the fun. We wandered around the city a bit to get a feel for what there was, and before long we were met by the breath-taking view of the sheer cliffs of the gorge that splits the city in two. The famous bridge, called Puente Nuevo, was truly impressive, despite my previous conviction that no bridge can truly be impressive. It was so immensely tall, and the wonders that kneel at its feet so surreal, that we soon understood the bridge´s nickname "balcón de coños" (which roughly translates to "balcony of ´oh shit!´"). Anyhow, after admiring its beauty both natural and man-made, we found a path down into the gorge. Thinking that it would take us to a slightly lower point in order to take picutres, we followed it down along the crumbling walls of a once-standing fortress. All that remained of an arabic fortress from the 13th century was an unmistakably arabic archway, through which we passed, and followed the path that started to get narrower and narrower, and more overgrown with vines and wildflowers. By the time the vegetation had consumed us as we were in a tunnel of greenery rather than an open path, we came upon the remains of a 18th or 19th century electric company building. For hours we explored this world that, save the grafiti dated in recent years, felt like it had been untouched for a century. It was both eerie and exciting -- thrilling and chilling. We dodged waterfalls, pushed aside vines, and dared slipper slopes, always to be rewarded by another amazing view of a part of the city´s history that had been abandoned to the vines and branches of Time. Wild figs grew through the walls of the buildings or out of the sides of cliffs, and the gentle sound of trickling water let us forget the nearby city as we took on the role of explorers and adventurers. Finally, after my friend had a nerve-shaking slip and the sun, too, was slipping lower and lower, we decided to head back. Half way up the slope was a small, dilapidating old house, in which there lives a man who sells refreshments to tourists on their arduous journey uphill. We stopped in and, after finding out from a pair of musicians seated on a ledge of the cliff by the house that the owner was down the path, we headed down again, this time towards the bridge. We found ourselves at the very feet of the bridge, just meters away from the crystal-clear waters. We found the owner hacking away at some stray branches, and he stopped his work to show us the amazing view and tell us a little about what we saw. He walked back with us to the top, where we purchased some beverages and sat for a while to chat with the owner (whose name, we found out, was Antonio) and the two musicians, who were visitors -- one from Italy and the other from Venezuela. Once well-rested and armed with bellies full of Fanta limón, we completed the climb up. The rest of our visit in Ronda was uneventful, but not boring in the least. It is an amazingly historic and beautiful city, and we were reluctant to climb aboard the bus at 7:00 to go back to Sevilla. Exhausted yet again, I enjoyed a quiet evening consisting of little more than a shower, dinner, and sleep.
And now, is the beginning of the end. Except for a few exams and a presentation this trip is over. So........if anyone wants anything from Spain let me know now, for this is my last week of shopping. I´m still in love with this country, but at the same time eager to come home.
I have to relenquish my computer now to the hoovering students eager to check their facebooks.
:D
love love love
Saturday was our final ISA excursion, so we all met at 8:30 in the morning to ride to Cádiz, a beach town not far frm Sevilla. The bus ride was less than pleasant for me, and somewhat reminiscent of Forrest Gump. Having arrived late, I had no choice really of where to sit, and ended up in the back of the bus with the "in crowd" of our group. Hours before the first traces of sunburn, I felt the burn of being unwanted. The ride back, however, was much better. I sat with a new friend with whom I talked about God and poverty and traveling. We first stopped in Jerez, a city near Cádiz, to see a horse museum. I can see the confused look on your faces now as you read....a horse museum??? Fret not, dear reader, we all felt the same way -- especially in conjunction with our anticipation of the long-awaited beach. The stables of the museum (which contained real LIVE horses) reawakened my lifelong dreams to someday have horses of my own. I´m not sure how that works with also being a world traveler. I don´t think horses are especially fond of flying. Oh well -- all minor details. Anyhow, we drug our feet through the museum and finally made it to Cádiz, where a small group of us first climbed to the highest tower of the cathedral for a truly breathtaking view of the town, which is located on a small peninsula. Saphire blue water smiled at us from all sides, and the whitewashed walls of the monolopy-esque buildings reflected the majesty of the sun. The cool breeze refreshed our weary bodies (weary because we got lost in the winding streets for nearly 30 minutes before finding the right building) and I have never felt so certain in my life that if I truly wanted to I could fly. But instead of flying we descended the dream-like spiral of the tower, and then walked to the beaches.
Almost as numerous as the grains of sand that danced carelessly with the waves were the people laid out on that sand. Umbrellas, bikinis, and beach towels were part of the mosaic that Nature designed to be tan and blue. It was insane -- but awesome. We found a spare plot of sand to set our things down, and then dashed into the cool, clear waters. I forget that the ocean can be clear blue and the beaches soft white. Texans don´t have very good beaches to compare to. But here I could see my feet beneath me as they sunk into the muddy sand, and the perfect sized waves tossed us around enough to feel its movement a part of my own pulse without having to struggle to maintain contact with the air. I am always amazed at the increased bouyancy of salt water -- I felt a little like Bill Nye as I made remarks about this. I have yet to find a sensation more relaxing and freeing than to float atop ocean waves, all the faces around me erased except that of the Sun. If it weren´t for the salt water filling the tiny canals of my inner ear and the UV rays that I know were my invisible enemy, I could have laid like that for the whole day. I suppose I need not go on about the wonders of the beach, as most of my readers will have known them themselves, and so my words, pale in comparisson to the reality, are pitiful. I will comment, however, on the unwritten allowance for toplessness on European beaches. It was neither shocking nor disturbing, only strange. Again I wondered about the American stigma about nakedness, but not so much so that I was convinced to remove my own top. After a day at the beach, I was so exhausted that our attempts once back in Sevilla to go see some live music all but failed, and I happily came back home and to sleep.
Sunday morning I reluctantly woke up to go to the bus station and meet my friend, and we left for Ronda, a small town in the mountains famous for its gorges and bridges. We had no idea what we were getting ourselves into or what the day would bring, but that was half the fun. We wandered around the city a bit to get a feel for what there was, and before long we were met by the breath-taking view of the sheer cliffs of the gorge that splits the city in two. The famous bridge, called Puente Nuevo, was truly impressive, despite my previous conviction that no bridge can truly be impressive. It was so immensely tall, and the wonders that kneel at its feet so surreal, that we soon understood the bridge´s nickname "balcón de coños" (which roughly translates to "balcony of ´oh shit!´"). Anyhow, after admiring its beauty both natural and man-made, we found a path down into the gorge. Thinking that it would take us to a slightly lower point in order to take picutres, we followed it down along the crumbling walls of a once-standing fortress. All that remained of an arabic fortress from the 13th century was an unmistakably arabic archway, through which we passed, and followed the path that started to get narrower and narrower, and more overgrown with vines and wildflowers. By the time the vegetation had consumed us as we were in a tunnel of greenery rather than an open path, we came upon the remains of a 18th or 19th century electric company building. For hours we explored this world that, save the grafiti dated in recent years, felt like it had been untouched for a century. It was both eerie and exciting -- thrilling and chilling. We dodged waterfalls, pushed aside vines, and dared slipper slopes, always to be rewarded by another amazing view of a part of the city´s history that had been abandoned to the vines and branches of Time. Wild figs grew through the walls of the buildings or out of the sides of cliffs, and the gentle sound of trickling water let us forget the nearby city as we took on the role of explorers and adventurers. Finally, after my friend had a nerve-shaking slip and the sun, too, was slipping lower and lower, we decided to head back. Half way up the slope was a small, dilapidating old house, in which there lives a man who sells refreshments to tourists on their arduous journey uphill. We stopped in and, after finding out from a pair of musicians seated on a ledge of the cliff by the house that the owner was down the path, we headed down again, this time towards the bridge. We found ourselves at the very feet of the bridge, just meters away from the crystal-clear waters. We found the owner hacking away at some stray branches, and he stopped his work to show us the amazing view and tell us a little about what we saw. He walked back with us to the top, where we purchased some beverages and sat for a while to chat with the owner (whose name, we found out, was Antonio) and the two musicians, who were visitors -- one from Italy and the other from Venezuela. Once well-rested and armed with bellies full of Fanta limón, we completed the climb up. The rest of our visit in Ronda was uneventful, but not boring in the least. It is an amazingly historic and beautiful city, and we were reluctant to climb aboard the bus at 7:00 to go back to Sevilla. Exhausted yet again, I enjoyed a quiet evening consisting of little more than a shower, dinner, and sleep.
And now, is the beginning of the end. Except for a few exams and a presentation this trip is over. So........if anyone wants anything from Spain let me know now, for this is my last week of shopping. I´m still in love with this country, but at the same time eager to come home.
I have to relenquish my computer now to the hoovering students eager to check their facebooks.
:D
love love love
Jun 20, 2008
buddha
This has to be brief; I have a presentation to prepare for monday -- all in Spanish.
Last night tons of people from our group went out to this place called Buddha Bar, which is actually a really cool place. It has three floors, the first is really chill and has a restaurant, the second floor has an indoor and outdoor bar with music in the inside bar; the third floor is an all-out discoteca. I had fun, but several times I stopped and looked around the solid mass of young human flesh around me and saw how completely ridiculous the whole thing is. I kind of felt like I found myself taking part in some tribal mating ritual. I just wanted to dance, and had to brush off the few vulture-like spanish guys who had other ideas. When it became so crowded that dancing was no longer possible and instead it was just a single mass of hormonal flesh pulsating with a beat that some might call music, I had to leave. It´s official -- I don´t like going out if that´s what "going out" means. It was fun for the most part, just not to be repeated.
So we didn´t get home until 4:30am and i didnt get to sleep until 5, which means today is a sleepy day. Not much else besides school, this project...oh, and my bocadillo today was a new kind and it was delicious. I was excited.
That´s it. I miss you all......I think about coming home more than I probably should, even though I´m enjoying my last week here.
7 days................
Last night tons of people from our group went out to this place called Buddha Bar, which is actually a really cool place. It has three floors, the first is really chill and has a restaurant, the second floor has an indoor and outdoor bar with music in the inside bar; the third floor is an all-out discoteca. I had fun, but several times I stopped and looked around the solid mass of young human flesh around me and saw how completely ridiculous the whole thing is. I kind of felt like I found myself taking part in some tribal mating ritual. I just wanted to dance, and had to brush off the few vulture-like spanish guys who had other ideas. When it became so crowded that dancing was no longer possible and instead it was just a single mass of hormonal flesh pulsating with a beat that some might call music, I had to leave. It´s official -- I don´t like going out if that´s what "going out" means. It was fun for the most part, just not to be repeated.
So we didn´t get home until 4:30am and i didnt get to sleep until 5, which means today is a sleepy day. Not much else besides school, this project...oh, and my bocadillo today was a new kind and it was delicious. I was excited.
That´s it. I miss you all......I think about coming home more than I probably should, even though I´m enjoying my last week here.
7 days................
Jun 19, 2008
Fanning the flames
After talking to my professor yesterday about how hot we are at night because we were told we can´t use the ceiling fan for long amounts of time, he convinced me to talk to Monolo -- the host family guy -- so he could talk with our mom. Apparently it´s in their contract that we have access to a fan (if not air conditioner). So I talked to Monolo, and he in turn called our host mom. She told him we are more than welcome to use the ceiling fan, she only wants us to turn it off when we leave the apartment. I was so confused -- had she lied to us? I could have sworn that she told us after leaving it on all night one night that we couldn´t leave it on for more than short amounts of time, and now she´s changing her tune??? Confused, we dreaded coming home. We made it home a little bit later than usual, and as soon as we walked into the kitchen she said (in spanish, of course) "When did I ever say you couldn´t use the ceiling fan?" I explained, told her that´s what I thought she was saying after we left it on all night. The problem is that I understand about 3/4 of the spanish that I hear, and the 1/4 that I didn´t hear afte the initial incident was the part where she said we had left the fan on the entire day before while we were at school and then the following night. Anyhow, it was a long series of misunderstandings and I was trying to explain what we thought she said and that we weren´t out to tattle on her (since we didn´t even have intentions of complaining -- it came up in casual conversation with the professor). It was terribly uncomfortable for both of us. Our host mom has developed a dislike for my roomate, Rachel, because of several misunderstandings and language gaps. So, during this whole encounter she would only address me -- she wouldn´t look at Rachel -- and she said that it was Rachel who tattled.
Finally things cooled down a little bit , i told her it´s ok and we just didn´t understand and everything´s fine now, and so we sat down to eat dinner. She picked up casual conversation, asking what we did, how classes were going, and things like that. Then she left the room and came back with a handheld fan that she handed to Rachel. It was either really funny or really spiteful -- I´m sticking with funny.
Anyhow, that was the most eventful part of my evening. I feel caught in a very awkward place, between a relationship of mutual misunderstanding and dislike with my roomate and host mom, and a desire on my part to have a good relationship with our mom and the rest of the family. My host sister got sick last night, and when i left this morning she was writhing on the couch with stomach pain. She had a rough night. I think I might write a letter to my host mom, since I can usually express myself better in written spanish than spoken. I can´t believe we have just over a week left here.
I realized yesterday that enough time has passed that home feels more like an imaginary place that I have created in my mind to comfort myself. It is not a real place -- I don´t really have wonderful friends with whom I can actually relax or family who loves me. They are all imaginary, and this is the only reality. The heat, the classes, the ancient streets, and the golden riverside. Fantasy stories are not so fantastical after all -- the airplane I will be getting on a week from Saturday is actually a portal into this alternate, imaginary universe, or maybe home is the real universe and I am in a dream/fantasy now. And I will travel in time -- my 13 hour trip home will really only take 6 and a half hours. Maybe today I will see a dragon or a fairy, or be visited by a prince.
Finally things cooled down a little bit , i told her it´s ok and we just didn´t understand and everything´s fine now, and so we sat down to eat dinner. She picked up casual conversation, asking what we did, how classes were going, and things like that. Then she left the room and came back with a handheld fan that she handed to Rachel. It was either really funny or really spiteful -- I´m sticking with funny.
Anyhow, that was the most eventful part of my evening. I feel caught in a very awkward place, between a relationship of mutual misunderstanding and dislike with my roomate and host mom, and a desire on my part to have a good relationship with our mom and the rest of the family. My host sister got sick last night, and when i left this morning she was writhing on the couch with stomach pain. She had a rough night. I think I might write a letter to my host mom, since I can usually express myself better in written spanish than spoken. I can´t believe we have just over a week left here.
I realized yesterday that enough time has passed that home feels more like an imaginary place that I have created in my mind to comfort myself. It is not a real place -- I don´t really have wonderful friends with whom I can actually relax or family who loves me. They are all imaginary, and this is the only reality. The heat, the classes, the ancient streets, and the golden riverside. Fantasy stories are not so fantastical after all -- the airplane I will be getting on a week from Saturday is actually a portal into this alternate, imaginary universe, or maybe home is the real universe and I am in a dream/fantasy now. And I will travel in time -- my 13 hour trip home will really only take 6 and a half hours. Maybe today I will see a dragon or a fairy, or be visited by a prince.
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