Author Archives: Danielle Metzger

So long, Europa

“I’m laying here in my bed and it is 8:09 am on June 17th and I am not ready. I am not ready to leave this place of laughs, this place of never ending learning and ceaseless smiles. Sure, today is the day. But I am in no way prepared to leave.

Where did the time go? Didn’t I just get here? Didn’t I just get off the plane, tackle the footbridge, and meet my host family? I know what it feels like to be attached to a person, but to a place is a different thing entirely. And I look around at my suitcases sitting in my empty room and I cannot help but to feel so sad. I will never sleep here again. I will never wake up to the view outside of my bedroom window or get ready for school or eat breakfast over Spanish conversation again. How can something be so final?

I look back on the month here and I know that I wouldn’t trade it for anything. We have become a group of 16 amigos and the only regret I have is that there wasn’t more time.

So goodbye comfy and squeaky bed of mine where I woke up every day to see the caricature of my host brother on the wall. Goodbye strange palm and evergreen tree combos outside of my window next to the neighbors. Goodbye Calle La Bola and the walks to school we took every day. Goodbye Puente Nuevo and the countless pictures we posed for in front of it. Goodbye shower head that I held between my knees and goodbye to the after school lunches with endless laughs. Goodbye bocadillos of tortilla and midnight natillas. Goodbye pulpos. Goodbye host fam. Goodbye, Ronda. I hope to see you soon.”

What a day this was. It’s hard to believe that it’s already been a month since I wrote it, since I bought an extra suitcase that morning because I had no more room in my own, since I said goodbye to my teary host family and got on the bus to the airport. This time last month, I was in Barcelona with my dad waiting for my mom and brother to join us so that we could go on a cruise through the Mediterranean. We’d been exploring in the gap of days we had between the end of my program and the cruise, so it wasn’t hard to see that Barcelona is a beautiful city. We saw a handful of its best attributes—Sagrada Familia, Montjuïc, and the Olympic Stadium to name a few—but it wasn’t the Spain that I’d gotten used to over the past month. The main differences were the language and the climate, to which one may say, “But how? Spain is still Spain.” And while this is true, the differences remained. Barcelona is the capital of Catalonia, a province where they speak a different one of the four official languages of Spain called Catalan. It’s a mix between Spanish and French, but for the most part was so foreign to me. There were also deciduous trees like those in Pennsylvania, something that southern Spain lacks. There weren’t as many, but it was definitely nice to see them again as weird as it was to me that they were there. How could I have gotten used to something to only be thrown off after going a few hundred miles north? It just goes to show that you’re always kept on your toes when traveling.

Reading menus wasn’t all too difficult, though. I found that the majority of the words sound similar and are spelled differently, or have the same Latin route. Simply put, we managed just fine. Another thing about Barcelona is that a huge number of people speak English, so more often than not that was the language of choice when someone local would speak to us. This was odd to me. I felt like it wasn’t really fair to the locals to have to default to something foreign to them. In the US, almost 100% of the time we approach people in English. But as I traveled to other countries later on (such as France and Italy), it was the same thing in a large majority of places. I was especially surprised that this was the case in the first shop we entered in France because the common stereotype is that they won’t really speak anything other than French to Americans and I was curious to see if it was actually true.

When I visited Cannes, my parents and I went into a pharmacy on a small side street to buy a pair of fingernail clippers (strange, I know, but we needed them and this is how the story goes). I myself know all of three words in French, max. My parents are about on the same page as I am. So picture this:  my dad goes to the counter, hands the cashier the nail clippers, and she rings them up and tells him the total—in French, of course. And without skipping a beat, my dad replies matter-of-factly with, “I have no idea what you just said,” as if she would understand him either. She then wrote the price down and he proceeded to pay without a problem, but to me the encounter was unintentionally funny. See, I’ve noticed that people do this thing–and it’s actually very common, since there’s really nothing else to do–where they break out into their own language when it’s very clear that the other person knows not one word of it because it’s the only thing they know how to do. Think about it:  if no one ever knew someone else’s language, how successful would we be? So as funny as it was to see, it shows us that we all have a little bit of learning to do and that being culturally aware of differences is really important in today’s world. With such a huge amount of travel in both leisure and business, we’re bound to run into some gaps. And sooner than later, those who can bridge them  will become indispensable.

And even though I hadn’t really thought of myself as different between pre and post Spain beforehand, I began to see it at this point. Pre-Spain, I would’ve probably felt that secondhand embarrassment that we all know and love. But because I muddled through so many similar scenarios, I looked at it in a different light. It validated my reason for coming abroad even more: I was there to bridge the gap.

Continuing with change, the reverse culture shock  on the way back home was in no way as intense as I imagine that it is for other people. I relayed experiences to my family, sure, but I didn’t realize that the way I saw things was no longer entirely the same until I was back home. I went on my Americanized cruise ship while continuing to visit foreign lands, yet slowly and surely got reused to the United States swing of things without being in the homeland itself. This is why I say that it wasn’t the same for me as it most likely was for the people that I went with on the trip. For lack of a better word, I had a halfway house. Even with that being said though, certain things were bound to stick out.

On the ship, my life switched from Spanish back to English. I no longer ordered food at a restaurant in Spanish, nor did I use it to ask for directions to a place or say ‘Gracias’ or ‘Por favor’. I’d be lying if they didn’t slip out from time to time out of my newly formed habits. When they did, I’d get a strange look from both whoever I was with and whoever I was saying it to, not even understanding why at first. And instead of being frustrated, it was funny to me. Like “Oh, wait, I don’t need to use this here. Whoops!” On one of the first nights of the cruise, we went to a Cirque show and were seated next to a family from northern Spain. Even though it had only been a few days, hearing Spanish again and speaking it back was cool to do in a setting outside of the one I had been in, complete with an accent from a different part of the country. Secretly, I was so proud of myself to understand it as well as I did because I know that I wouldn’t’ve prior to the trip. Noting visible progress was awesome; it really showed that the hard work we’d put in all month in classes paid off.

Throughout the rest of that week, I saw more than I ever imagined I’d be able to in such a short time: Pompeii, the Colosseum, David, and then some.  I ate homemade Italian pasta and walked the streets of the Rome. I stood and stared  in awe at the Sistine Chapel and got a postcard with the pope giving a thumbs up to remember it by. A year ago, I never would’ve pictured my life as it is now. The ship gave me new friends and experiences that were the icing on the cake to a once in a lifetime experience and it was the perfect high note to wrap up half a summer of adventure.

And then, the USofA. Once my plane touched down, I was reunited with all of the grass and green that I’d so dearly missed (Seriously. I never knew that I could feel deprived of grass but it’s a real thing.) There were English signs. And English on the radio. And English songs! Have you ever not realized that you missed something until you have it again after not having it for a while? It’s such a strange feeling. It’s like walking into a room and seeing something and saying “Oh, there you are.” Since being back, I appreciate things more. This many days in, I still look at the tree covered mountains that have always been so ordinary to me and now recognize them as being symbolic of home. I appreciate the stoplights instead of roundabouts and I love that people walk on the right side of the street. I feel like I see things differently than I had in the past.  There’s this quote I read before I left that sums it up pretty well that goes like this:

“Why do you go away? So that you can come back. So that you can see the place you came from with new eyes and extra colors. And the people there see you differently, too. Coming back to where you started is not the same as never leaving.”

But I miss the daily tortilla española. And I miss walking down Calle La Bola every day. I miss buying tarta de queso at the grocery stores and I miss laughing over Spanish slip ups. I miss meeting in the plaza for dinner and I miss chupitos on the house after we finished. I miss La Lechuguita and Benito’s. I miss my Spanish teachers. I miss our Spanish school. I miss the cow on the cliff. I miss my host family. I miss my second home.

So would I do it again? In a heartbeat. 18 cities and 4 countries later, I cannot even begin to put into words the magnitude of change in myself this past month and a half. I have learned to appreciate the beauty in the small and the comfort of the familiar. I wouldn’t trade the memories made for anything. For those who are reading that will venture out and onto their own study abroad experiences or even this one in the coming year, be forewarned: these are not for the faint of heart. In addition to the adventures, you will have to work—it’s still school, they’re still grades, and they still matter. It will not be easy. But it will be one of the best experiences of your life, and it is so worth it.

So long, Europa

So long, Europa

 

 

 

 


Location: Barcelona

The Final Full

Wrapping up our final full week was so strange to do. How could it be that we’d be leaving so soon already? Even though the trip was drawing to a close, we still managed to pack the week full of activities and sightseeing.

Getting in Touch with Our Nature-y Sides

That Tuesday, we did something that we’d all put on our Ronda bucketlists–go under the bridge. The distance between the top of the bridge and the bottom of the gorge is about 120 meters, or 390 feet. The hike down itself was no more than a steep walk, but we picked up a few friends on the way. One of them was a Ronda native named Antonio who shared his own study abroad experience with us to a place not far away from Penn State:  Lancaster, PA. Small world, right?

The underbelly of the bridge was much different than I had expected. While I had been told that it was a gorge, I didn’t realize how big it actually was.

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Spanish terrain as a whole is pretty arid and rocky, but in parts like this it’s a bit greener, too. I really liked seeing the land as it was, undisturbed and without having been built on even though it was only a few hundred feet upwards.

Delving Deeper

The next day was filled with more nature-esque things. The first was a visit to a cave called La Pileta.. This cave was home to over 18,000 murciélagos, or bats. On the walls were paintings over 30,000 years old. Some were even older! They depicted animals such as horses, bulls, and fish. So as not to disturb the bats or damage the cave drawings, we weren’t permitted to take photos in these innermost parts of the cave, but we did manage to snag one in the entrance with our lanterns that we used as guides throughout the tour.

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Following La Pileta, we went off to yet another cave: La Cueva del Gato, or The Cave of the Cat. It gets its name for its catlike stone structure.

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Contrary to its appearance, this place is not what meets the eye. The pond is deeper than it seems. The cliffs are higher. And the water is very, VERY cold.  Though the day itself was about 85 degrees, the water was shaded by foliage and settled in at what felt like a Penn State winter itself. ¡Qué frío!

….we went in anyway.

And we froze.

And I would 100% do it again.

I’m talking the kind of cold where your entire body feels numb and makes it hard to breathe once it gets past your rib cage, the kind of cold where your skin comes out in a carefully calculated combination of red and purple with goosebumps out the wazoo depending on the time spent inside. But we did it under this rationale:  How many times are you really ever in Spain?

More Nature, Plus History

Think about the architecture that one can see today. Think about the details. Think about the color. More importantly, think about the technology used to create it. Now picture something equally as unique, but tenfold the detailing and started construction in 889. This is known as none other than La Alhambra, a fortress and palace located in Granada.

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This is a plant that Granada is known for, subsequently named La Granada. Though it may seem foreign, the US sees them quite frequently: pomegranates.

I like to compare La Alhambra to an architect’s dream. I have never been so in awe of any building as much as I was of this one. From the moment we walked in, our entire group was floored. For something to be so old and yet so intricate was incredible.

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Of the many spots we visited inside, one was called El Patio de Leones, or The Patio of the Lions. It’s known for its water structure in the center, encircled by lions and also by its patterned arches.

But my favorite part of all was a section called El Generalife, which is La Alhambra’s gardens. They’re not comparable to anything I’ve seen in the past, but I like to describe them with 3 B’s: big, beautiful, and breathtaking. Words don’t do it justice.

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Without a doubt, La Alhambra has been the best part thus far. Nothing can compare to the detail, the beauty, and the magnificence found in one place.

The City Itself

And then came Granada. We were told that next on the Agenda was seeing Ferdinand and Isabella’s graves. Crazy, right? But in the meantime, we had a few hours to explore the city on our own.

I set off by myself. I still had some gifts to buy. But more importantly, I had yet to venture anywhere in Spain alone. I wanted to see it for myself. I didn’t go far–just to a few shops in an open market and then off to a main street–but it was refreshing to take everything in in the way I saw it. I’ve found that opinions of things are best made when uninfluenced by the words or actions of those around you. I bought some boomerangs and wallets, talked to some shopkeepers, and saw a parrot casually sitting atop someone’s shoulder. I gave some spare change to the happiest homeless man I’d ever seen. He was singing a song and dancing with the cup, throwing ‘ayudame’ into the verse, which means help me. After a while, it was time to head back. But having wandered by myself was a nice refresher.

The graves themselves were underneath the main floor building, but not quite like a basement. There was a small set of stairs that led down to a room covered by a glass window immediately followed by stairs back to the top. The statuesque replicas were above in the main floor of the church. Standing next to two of the most powerful people in the history of the world makes you feel really, really small.

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And with that, our venture to Granada drew to a close–but not before grabbing a quick group photo by the fountain in one of the city’s squares!

Students, Professors, and a PSU student residing in Granada for work purposes

Students, Professors, and a PSU student residing in Granada for work purposes

 

 

 


Location: Granada

Easing Back Into “Reality”

Post Madrid, we had a three day week which was nice to use to get back into the swing of things. The Thursday of that week we went to Ronda’s 16th century bodega for a wine tasting. We learned about the process that goes into making the wine and why it’s done a certain way for each. The darker the wine, the older it is. We also stumbled across the one and only avocado tree in Ronda. It grows in the shaded patio of the bodega on the cliff side, so it’s protected from certain aspects of the weather that it wouldn’t have been if it were somewhere else.

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On Friday, I woke up with two welts that could be known as none other than spider bites according to careful research (aka browsing through none other than Google Images). Susana and I went to the hospital after school to get them checked out since the bug bit me while I was sleeping and we weren’t sure if it would go away on its own. Luckily, the doctors told me (told Susana in very fast Spanish that she later relayed to me in a simple version) that I only had to continue taking the seasonal allergy medicine that I already do. They’ve since deflated and left some Spanish battle wounds that I can take back home. There’s this quote that I like that says “Wherever you go becomes a part of you somehow”. Can’t help but to think that the way it applies here is kind of funny in a backwards sort of version.

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I woke up like this (and proceeded to unintentionally freak everyone out at school)

Saturday we didn’t have any trips technically scheduled, but everyone planned to use the free weekend to go to a Spanish beach so the majority of us took a bus to Marbella, which is about a 40 minute drive. The town is beautiful. We got it on a cloudier day than we’d hoped, but all in all it was still fun to go to. Susana told us that you can see Morocco when the sky is clear and that it’s only 14 km away. To put in perspective as to how close we were, a few of our phones picked up the Moroccan time zone.


First step in the Mediterranean  

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Puerto Banus

 

The beach itself also had a lot of people carrying around knockoff purses, sunglasses, and the like. Most told us that they had come from Africa and were trying to earn money to live in Spain which was admirable, but were so pushy in trying to get us to buy their things that it became annoying. The initial question and answer was the same from man to man:

“Sunglasses? Jersey? Buy this t-shirt for your boyfriend?”
“No, thank you.”

After tons and tons of people approaching us with only a few minutes between each, we resorted to more creative tactics that served us well for the rest of the trip, specifically our favorite weapon with the best Spanish accent that we could muster:

“Sunglasses? Jersey? Buy this t-shirt for your boyfriend?”
“¡No hablo inglés¡” (aka I don’t speak English)

It’s foolproof–10/10 would recommend.


Location: Marbella

The Top 5 Types of Things You’ll Notice in Spain

As it would be assumed, Spain and the US have their fair share of differences. While there are an unlimited number of them, there are a handful of things that stick out more than others.

1. Time
Everything is much more relaxed. In certain situations, it’s perfectly acceptable to say you’ll meet somewhere at 8:30 and not show up until 8:35/40. For example, social outings are much looser than things like the starting time of class. That being said, even class is more relaxed. We have a start time of 9 everyday but if someone doesn’t come until 9:05 it’s still seen as on time, not five minutes late.

Siesta takes place every day from about 2-5 and is both a blessing and a curse. It’s nice to have a break to nap or get ahead on work, but it’s frustrating when I want to go shopping for groceries or whatever else I may need right after school. In the bigger cities that we went to, siesta is less common but still occurs with the smaller, non-touristy, family owned shops. In Ronda, almost everything closes except the hospitals (of course) and the few tourist shops and restaurants near the New Bridge.

2. Attire
EVERYONE WEARS PANTS. ALL. THE. TIME. It doesn’t matter what the temperature is, nor the time of day. ¾ of the people in Ronda are always in pants when you walk around town. In fact, only tourists wear shorts really so it becomes a dead giveaway. Every once in a while you’ll come across someone in shorts, but it’s definitely a rarity. It’s also frowned upon to wear sweatpants or athletic clothes out of the house unless you’re en route to the gym. To this day, I have yet to see any Spaniard wear any at all.

3. House Etiquette
One must not go barefoot in the host house. Wearing shoes is a sign of courtesy—typically they’re slippers, but for the most part I wear flip flops since the weather is warm which makes the house warm.

I have yet to see a window screen. The windows and the doors are almost always open, but without screens attached. I’ve made a game out of getting flies out of my room via the window. It’s been quite successful so far.

In the US, it’s a common thing to see showers that have a mount on the wall but can also be moved out of the holster. My host house has this kind of shower, but without the mount…I put it between my knees every day when I shampoo.

 

Toilets don’t have actual handles to flush, but rather buttons, which are the most common substitute. At my host house, it’s a metal piece on top of the water bowl that pulls upwards.

4. Eating Schedule and the Food Itself
Food hours are more spread out than ours at home. Breakfast is still in the morning around 8 or 9, but lunch happens during siesta (a break during the day where all shops close and reopen later, meant to be a rest for those who are working to go home and eat lunch and/or take a nap aka siesta) which is from 2-5. Dinner falls between 9 and 12 am. People at restaurants ate between 9-11, but my host family commonly eats around midnight. Meal size is also different. Breakfast is about the same, but lunch and dinner are switched. Dinner is smaller whereas lunch has a few courses. And of course, actual food eaten at each is different too. For breakfast, my host family eats toast with chopped tomatoes and olive oil. Lunch can be anything from tortilla de patatas to soup to sausage or fish or all of the above. Our host mom likes to feed us A LOT. Sometimes I skip dinner because I’m still full from the hours before.

The weirdest things I’ve eaten thus far have been pig cheek and bull tail, both very good and unlike any other type of meat I’ve had. The pig cheek is tender with a lot of flavor, but it’s mostly meat and not a lot of fat. The closest comparison I can give it is a cross between veal and filet mignon. I had the bull tail in a burger and it might be my favorite thing that I’ve tried to date here. It has more fat than the pig cheek but less fat still than an average steak. Bull tail is also very tender but not really comparable to other meats. It’s definitely one to try for yourself. Other people have eaten morcilla (mor-see-yuh) which is a type of sausage made of (get ready) cooked blood and fat. My friends have had mixed opinions of it. A few like it, but most can’t get past the composition or the aftertaste. I’m not brave enough to try it myself, so I can only go by what they say. I guess one can consider it to be an acquired taste.

MILK COMES IN A BOX! Think about a box that soup broth would come in at a grocery store, but a bit bigger. When you buy milk here, it’s on a refrigerate-after-opening basis which is so rare to me. It’s unheard of in the States to let milk sit out for more than a few minutes let alone indefinitely like a juice box. My host mom keeps a few boxes at a time lined up in the pantry. They blend in with the cereal boxes. Apparently it’s perfectly safe to do it the way that they do because it’s very pasteurized, but I don’t think it’s a custom I’ll adopt myself when I’m back home.

4. Atmosphere and Environment
The climate and geography are more similar to the southwest than the northeast where Penn State is. For the most part, the air here is dry with little humidity and greenness is to a minimum. There’s more brush than anything else. When we went to Marbella though, a beach on the south coast, the humidity increased because of the nearness to the water. The north is supposed to be very green as well, so my understanding is that the climate is overall varied just as the US happens to be. (I’m writing this in Madrid’s airport and looking out the window at the mountains and realizing that I probably won’t be here again for a very long time because I’m flying home in an hour and this is extra weird to be leaving after so long—I feel like this place is my second home and even though I’m starting to miss things at my actual home it’s weird to think that it’s all over and this is very sentimental and shall be reflected upon at a later date. TEARS)

5. Miscellaneous Observations
In the US, we pull doors open to enter a building and push them to exit. In Spain, most doors are push to enter and pull to exit. Strange stuff.

Festivities are more frequent and extravagant. There’s a parade at least once a week for a holiday.

Getting married earlier than 35 is considered very young. It’s also normal to live in your parents’ house around that age and older.

There is no set side of the street to walk on. While we walk on the right, Spanish walking has no structure and is more similar to that of pedestrian traffic in a city.

The strangest part to me about all of the things that I’ve noticed that are different than what I’ve been used to in the States is that they don’t seem too different to me anymore. As I wrote this post, I had to think about what wasn’t the same. And I feel like when I go home all of the things that I thought were normal before are going to seem strange. I don’t feel like I experienced a lot of culture shock when I arrived, but I think that the reverse will almost certainly happen. We shall see how it actually turns out.

Round 2

The day that followed Sevilla was a combination of deberes (homework) and siestas (naps). It also happened to be Election Day, which I found to be odd since ours is usually a Tuesday. In any case, we’d seen the current mayor at school the week prior, but she was the only one out of all 10+ candidates that I knew. Our host mom said that they’d know who won around 8 pm. Coincidentally, we decided to go to dinner around that time and when we got to the plaza it was filled to the brim with people and music and a huge procession. At first we thought that they were celebrating the reelection of Mary Paz (the name of the mayor) but later we found out that it was just another festival. That’s the thing about Ronda. There are so many festivals and so many parades that it’s not weird at all for the people who live there whereas for us it’s considered a big event. Kind of like Penn State’s Homecoming parade. There aren’t many things of the sort but when they happen, people make sure to attend.

Children dressed up for the festival

Children dressed up for the festival

A group of people carry a parade piece. Notice the feet down below

A group of people carry a parade piece. Notice the feet down below

Monday and Wednesday of that week we went to dance classes for sevillana, the typical dance style in Andalucia. They took place in the school that we were supposed to have class in which is way across town, but it was still cool to see. The classes were so funny considering that none of us are particularly skilled in the dance department, but we enjoyed it all the same. There are four types of sevillana, and we touched on all of them but primarily the first two. The third and fourth are more difficult, but easier I imagine for those who already know the others. We were also shown some bachata and salsa for a bit on Wednesday but it all turned into some Spanish Zumba, a blessing for all of us double left footers.

Afterwards, we didn’t really know what we wanted for dinner so we all got different foods from a supermarket called Mercadona. I got 2 kilos of strawberries for a euro and a half with some tarta de queso (cheesecake) and tiramisu. Healthy, right? 10/10 would recommend everything EXCEPT the tiramisu. Imagine a puddle of unflavored liquor at the bottom of the cup that soaks into the dessert. While the top was good, I can’t say that the bottom half was my cup of tea. Other people bought chorizo, a type of Spanish sausage, while some had straight bags of spinach. Even though it was a makeshift dinner, I’d have to say that it’s one of the best we had.

Posing in clothes from sevillana with tiramisu in hand

Posing in clothes from sevillana with tiramisu in hand

Waiting for Madrid

Since one of our activities got canceled that week, we had free days on Thursday and Friday where we caught up on all of our homework and took advantage of siestas. But Saturday was the day. With a 7:30 am bus call, we were off to the country’s renowned capital and couldn’t be more excited.

The trip in itself was 6 hours, but it took us 8 because the bus driver was required to take breaks. His name was Ángel. Complete with our Ho-o-o-ola’s and counting system (everyone gets a number and we count off to make sure that we have the whole group when we’re on excursions), we loved him.

Once we arrived, one thing was clear–Madrid is HUGE. The hotel we stayed at was part of NH Collection and called Paseo del Prado near a fountain by the name of Neptune.

View from the top of the hotel

View from the top of the hotel

The beautiful shower with the head mounted on the wall (aka no need to hold it while showering)

The beautiful shower with the head mounted on the wall (aka no need to hold it while showering…more on this later)

Fountain of Neptune from the bus window on the way to the hotel

Fountain of Neptune from the bus window on the way to the hotel

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After some naps, we headed out for a walk around the town. We saw some very important landmarks like Kilometro Cero and El Corte Inglès…jokes. It’s not a technical landmark, but it’s so popular in Spain that it might as well be. If you’re not familiar, think about Target and Macy’s combined with designer products, a restaurant, and healthcare. I have never seen a bigger building with only one store. If ever presented with the chance, go. American department stores pale in comparison. We went solely for the view of the skyline, but seeing the store was an experience in itself.

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Kilometro Cero, the origin of all roads in Spain

Madrid's skyline as seen from El Corte Inglés

Madrid’s skyline as seen from El Corte Inglés

El Escorial & Segovia

The next day we set off for a place I’d never heard of–El Escorial. It in itself is a smaller village, but we went to see its monastery. Huge is an understatement. We toured the inside and while we weren’t allowed to take pictures, the place in itself was pretty memorable if for nothing other than its size. We saw rooms where the King and Queen slept and learned that it was normal for the public to enter and watch them in their daily lives. Weird, right? I think I’d freak out if I woke up to someone staring at me everyday. Later on we saw tombs of all of the kings and queens and ran into some grumpy monks. Apparently they aren’t fans of tourists or being spoken to at all.  This surprised me considering that they’re surrounded by both things fairly often and weren’t said to be silent monks. Odd.

 

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My friend Shannon and I at the monastery

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Once we finished at the monastery, we headed over to Segovia. Huge seemed to be a common theme that day because as soon as we arrived we saw the roman aqueducts. (Picture)
As the name implies, they are roman structure created to transport water across the city. After looking at them for a while and taking tons of pictures, we moved on to Segovia’s castle. We learned that it was the basis for Cinderella’s castle in Disney World. Small world, right? (Or in Spanish, el mundo es un pañuelo, which implies the same idea but actually translates to ‘the world is a tissue’. Speaking of Disney, I wonder what the Small World ride would sound like translated. “The world’s a tissue after all, the wooooorld’s a tissue aaafter all……”)

Aqueducts of Segovia

Aqueducts of Segovia

Segovian castle

Segovian castle

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Princesses outside of their castle

Princesses outside of their castle

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One of the many intricate castle ceilings

One of the many intricate castle ceilings

My knight in shining armor

My knight in shining armor

Princess's bedroom

Princess’s bedroom

152 steps later, we arrived at the top of the castle's tower

152 steps later, we arrived at the top of the castle’s tower

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The next day we spent entirely in Madrid. Susana’s husband, Miguel, took us on a walk through a different part of the city.

...this is the post office

…this is the post office

La Puerta

La Puerta

We found ourselves at Buen Retiro Park. There we saw the most Pennsylvania-esque creatures of the trip: turtles, ducks, and very large lake fish. Beyond that was El Palacio de Cristal, which is what it sounds like. While it has some actual structure, it’s mainly composed of glass. Inside was an art exposition, one of the many that have the opportunity to be displayed there. They change about every two weeks, but I can’t imagine one being prettier than the one we saw.

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Next on the agenda was La Reina Sofia museum. On the walk there we passed a few outdoor gyms with machines built into the ground and the whole nine yards. Who knew?

Once we got to La Reina, we meandered for a while until we found ourselves in front of Picasso’s Guernica. Unfortunately, this was another place where pictures were prohibited, but maybe that was for the best–pictures couldn’t have done it justice. Sometimes things just hit you straight in the face with no warnings. This was one of them. And sure, I’d read about it before and I knew that it was about a bomb on a certain village during the Spanish Civil War, but it was one of those things where you just don’t get it completely until you see it for yourself. Absolutely incredible. We must’ve stood there staring at it for twenty minutes or more without saying a word before we talked about it, but it was one of those things that you don’t get tired of looking at. Like Niagra Falls, for example. Every time you look you find something new to see even though the idea remains the same.

Following La Reina Sofia we headed to our next museum for the day, Paseo del Prado. This held Las Meninas by Velazquez, a painting I’d never seen before nor heard of but later learned that it was also incredibly famous. One of our professors, Dr. Blue, knows so much about Spanish art that it’s unbelievable. He pointed out that Velazquez puts himself in the painting, something that tends to be very uncommon and yet still executed perfectly by this gent. His use of lighting within the piece calls one’s attention to certain aspects of the painting while leaving some other subtler parts as they were originally, allowing the viewer to find them on his or her own.

We next went on our second stroll through the town where we saw the oldest plaza in Spain, Miguel Cervantes house, and a handful of other impressive places.

Miguel Cervantes's house

Miguel Cervantes’s house

 

 

La Plaza de la Villa, the oldest plaza in Spain

El Palacio Real, where the royal family resides

El Palacio Real, where the royal family resides

Following our walk, we hopped onto Madrid’s subway to go eat dinner in at a rooftop cafe. I ate beef ternera, which is essentially raw beef with spices and such. With the sunset in the background, it was the perfect wrap up for our last night in the city.

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As glad as I was to collapse onto my bed afterwards and recuperate from hours and hours in museums that day, I knew that I’d learned an insurmountable amount about some of the most important pieces of their respective eras. That’s one thing I’ve learned about Spain–there is no end to the stories of the country’s history and the people who influenced it, both positively and negatively.

Toledo

On the fourth and final day we headed over to Toledo. The city in itself is unique in comparison to any other, being that it’s made mostly of Spanish brick (I think that’s an appropriate name to call it considering that I have yet to see it elsewhere). The streets were decorated with flowers, flags, and garland for a festival called Corpus Christi that would be happening the next day. While there, we went to see a painting called El Greco and learned about its meaning and the progression of the painting itself (no picture possibilities once again, sadly)  On our way out, one of the students in our group ran into her teacher from a few years past without either of them knowing that the other would be there. Small world, huh?

Decorations for Corpus Christi

Decorations for Corpus Christi

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Following El Greco, we went to the oldest synagogue in Spain. It was cool to have a change of pace and see a different sort of building since we’d been primarily visiting churches throughout the trip.

Arches within the synagogue

Arches within the synagogue

Post synagogue, we went to Toledo’s cathedral. This particular church had a type of sculpture that wasn’t present in any other, depicting different biblical images. The sculpture went up to and through the ceiling near a skylight.

Toledo's Cathedral sculpture

Part of Toledo’s Cathedral sculpture

Our trip to Toledo concluded with the walk back to the bus…in doing so we took some escalators down the side of a mountain?? They were outside and acted as a shortcut and a much better alternative to stairs considering its height.

An overlook of Toledo as seen from the escalators

An overlook of Toledo as seen from the escalators

Outdoor escalating

Outdoor escalating

With a great weekend coming to a close, we began the trek back to Ronda and officially met the halfway point in the program. How could it be that only two more weeks of school remained? Where in the world does the time go?


Location: Madrid, Toledo, Segovia, El Escorial

Exploring the Province

After our first week of classes, we ventured an hour away to another well known Andalusian city: Sevilla.

While the city is in the same province as Ronda, the climate change was more noticeable than I thought it would be. Ronda is breezy due to the mountains with little to no humidity whereas Sevilla is flatter and has a ridiculous amount of humidity on top of its high temperature.

Our first matter of business was a tour of La Catedral de Sevilla, the 4th largest cathedral in the world. Inside, we visited the main parts of the interior as well as rooms that represented different time periods of Spanish history, including the Baroque and Renaissance  eras. The thing that stuck out most to me was the builder’s need for symmetry–for example, if a door and window set was on one side of the room, there needed to be another on the opposite side to keep the room even. However, the set that was built for the purpose of symmetry is only the outline of the doors and windows instead of a set that functions.

Outdoor view of the Cathedral

Outdoor view of the Cathedral

Altar’s wall

Cathedral halls

Cathedral halls

Example of a door and window set created for symmetry

Example of a door and window set created for symmetry

Our tour guide also told us with great pride that the Cathedral held Christopher Columbus’s remains and was the final keeper of them after they’d been moved many times after his death. The tomb to recognize it is HUGE, especially when you learn that what they have is approximately 150 grams of a mix of dirt, miscellaneous particles, and Christopher. Even still, it’s impressive to have even only pieces of one of the most controversially influential people of all time.

Christopher Columbus's tomb

Christopher Columbus’s tomb

We then walked into the Cathedral’s Treasury where we saw all things gold from crowns to plates to small statues.

Crowns in the Treasury of the Cathedral

Crowns in the Treasury of the Cathedral

After the Treasury was the bell tower. 34 ramps and a handful of steps later, we arrived and were greeted by a view of the city’s skyline.

Sevilla's skyline

Sevilla’s skyline

Under one of the tower's bells

Under one of the tower’s bells

Next was a trip through Santa Cruz, a smaller region of Sevilla with streets so narrow that only a moped could fit through. Between all of the touristy shops and bars that crowded the area, we also came across Washington Irving’s home–originally I took a photo because I liked the purple flowers, but later on I realized whose it was when I saw the plaque on the side of the wall. It’s so weird to walk around in a place with so much history in every corner.

Washington Irving's house in Santa Cruz

Washington Irving’s house in Santa Cruz

At home, I live on a mountain with a ton of trees (which there are coincidentally not many of here) and have nothing of the sort. It’s such a different world here. In any case, after Santa Cruz we picnicked in a small plaza before walking back to the front of the Cathedral where we were greeted by a surprise that Susana had set up for us–horse carriage rides! They took us through Maria Louisa Park and ended at the Plaza de España where we got out to explore.

Even more flowers

Views in Maria Louisa

One of our other carriages on the opposite side of the street in front of the Plaza

One of our other carriages on the opposite side of the street in front of the Plaza

Overview of the Plaza

Overview of the Plaza

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From the Plaza, we walked around the town. Between dessert shops, the university, weddings and bachelorette parties, we saw a little of everything.

What about the donuts?

What about the donuts?

Desserts on desserts on desserts

Desserts on desserts on desserts

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^Street performers

The bachelorette party that we ran into was doing a scavenger hunt and had to find foreigners to teach Sevillana, a type of dance.  Imagine arms and legs flailing around in no particular direction as they directed us to move in certain ways. Needless to say, we were all limbs and turned into professional toe crushers, but we had a ton of fun. We also ran into a wedding on the way out of the Cathedral, complete with the rice throwing and what we like to call the Olé song. We don’t know if that’s actually the name or not, but the only word in the song is olé so I’d say it’s safe to say that it’s something to that effect. Getting married in that Cathedral is supposed to be a huge deal due to its reputation, so aside from the wedding party and guests there were extra bystanders that happened upon the event as they walked by…very much so like ourselves.

For the remainder of the day after that, we wandered, explored, and immersed ourselves into one of Andalusia’s best well known cities. Here’s to you, Sevilla

Our group in front of the cathedral before returning to Ronda

Our group in front of the cathedral before returning to Ronda

 


Location: Sevilla

Semana Número Uno

Friday: First Exposures

I’ve learned that there’s always something to celebrate in Spain. Whether it is a citywide festival or one for a church, everyday there’s something new. Only a few hours after we arrived in Spain, we set off to Ronda Romántica, a festival celebrating the history of the city.

Around 8 o’clock on Friday night, tourists and locals alike began to line the streets in the small town, patiently awaiting the procession.

La Plaza de España holds the festival's procession

People gather around the sides of the Plaza de España to watch the procession

Smurfs in Spain?

Smurfs in Spain?

The parade was meant to showcase Ronda’s history throughout the years, displaying the different attire worn in each era and acting out different sorts of scenes. But due to the heavy flow of people and relative shortness of the group, we decided that we would get to better know the city if we did so in one of its most important avenues that we could actually see—the food.

And so began the hunt for our first tapas experience. (Tapas are similar to small appetizers, and typically for dinner a person orders two or three.) There are an unbelievable amount of restaurants around the town. To try every restaurant on a side street for dinner, it would take at LEAST a week. With so many to choose from, we naturally had to walk around and see which would be the best pick. And unlike the US, everything in Ronda looks like art. The flowers on the terraces and the thatched roofs of buildings create something so picturesque for people like me who don’t live there, but something so normal for those who do. Sure, this is to be expected, but at the same time I can’t imagine ever getting tired of the scenery.

View of the opposite side of the cliff as seen from Puente Nuevo

View of the opposite side of the cliff as seen from Puente Nuevo

One of the many restaurants off of La Plaza de Toros, seen in the backround

One of the many restaurants off of La Plaza de Toros, seen in the backround

After walking around for a half hour or so soaking everything in, we settled on a place on a side street off of the Plaza de España, where the parade had been held. Since all of the restaurants are in such close quarters, no one is really sure as to what the name was of the one that we went to, but one thing is certain—we are never going back. I can speak for all of us when I say that we were expecting a nice first tapas experience, but it turned into anything but that. Being that the majority of the group had only been in the country for a few hours, the language gap was still very real. While we were directing questions to our professor, Dr. Blue, about what each dish was, the waiter was barking at one of the students to tell him her order. It had been two minutes from the point that we sat down to when this happened. Once he got flustered enough, he let us alone for a few more minutes to look over the menu further. This was especially tricky for me because I have some pretty serious food allergies and didn’t want to have anything happen. On the bright side, it was one hell of a vocabulary lesson.

From tapas, to pasta, to pizza, tons of different things were ordered. Once they arrived, I think that everyone enjoyed themselves. I ordered ‘Arroz con leche’, which translates to ‘Rice with milk”. My allergies are to tree nuts and shellfish, so this seemed to be a safe bet. Initially, the waiter forgot it and was arguing with my professor, insisting that he was right. Once he realized that he forgot it he went back to place the order. Later on it came out with a questionable garnish on it. Was it an onion? Was it a string of white asparagus? Only taste buds could tell. Whenever this happens, I give a piece of the unknown substance to someone at the table to see what it is and if it’s allergy friendly. The lucky recipient this time was my professor, who then told me that it was a string of calamari, or squid for those who are unfamiliar. I passed it around the table after that so that it would go to waste, being that I couldn’t have it myself. Tapas: 1, Danielle: 0

Saturday:  Viva la Fiesta

Prior to departure for Spain, our main faculty leader, Susana, told us to bring a long black skirt and a white shirt to match. The next morning after arrival, we were told to put them on (fret not, the three boys in the program were allowed to wear pants) and meet in the Plaza at 11. We had no idea what the occasion was or what they represented when we put them on, but as we walked from the Plaza to our unknown destination, we quickly found out why. Like the parade the day before, people were wearing clothing representing different time periods. Susana gave us cloth type scarves to wrap around our waists that were similar to theirs. Now, I wouldn’t say that we looked like Spaniards by any means, but we definitely fit in more than the rest of the foreigners. Our destination was at the intersection of a blocked off street and the patio courtyard in front of a church. There we met some more parade people, including some pirates and some horses that were also dressed for the occasion.

Townspeople dressed in clothing for the festival

Townspeople dressed in clothing for the festival

Hanging out with the locals

Hanging out with the locals

The play took place on the church steps as seen here

Play taking place on the church steps

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Click for video)

Though we hadn’t been immersed in Spanish much at that point, the show was still cool to watch. I’m a fan of theatre in the United States, so it was interesting to see how they did it in another country.

After the show, we walked through an open market where sellers had set up shop. From meat and cheese to giant doughnuts to jewelry to clothes, they had it all. I tried some ‘queso de oveja’, or ‘sheep cheese’. Picture a mix between Asiago and Manchego to get the taste. It was FANTASTIC. (A side note: As I write this, I’m on the bus to Madrid and we just passed a cheese shop going through town…YES)
Other students tried chorizo, a sort of Spanish sausage, while some tried some desserts that can only be named by description.

Later that night, we went to the Plaza de Toros for a horse competition. The seats in the audience were filled nearly all the way up on the bottom ring at first, but later on when they opened up the top section the majority of people moved into the shade, including us. Our teacher told us that back when there were bullfights in the Plaza, the pricing of seats was based on closeness to the fight and whether it was shady or sunny in that part of the colosseum. The participants dressed up in traditional clothing and the competition began, with each person showing their routine one after one.

One of the competitors performing

One of the competitors performing

Handful of the PSU students at the show

Handful of the PSU students at the show

Afterwards, we went out for tapas round two. This time, I ordered another popular item in Spain—jamón ibérico (ha-mohn ee-bear-ee-coh), or Iberian Ham. It’s comparable to prosciutto, but with a little more salt and a slightly different texture. In my time here I’ve learned that Spaniards LOVE ham and that it’s incorporated into the majority of their dishes (We actually just passed a museum solely dedicated to ham in Madrid—more on that later). Within a day, we’d gotten better at ordering in Spanish and speaking to the waiters in general, too. Progress!

Sunday: Siestas and Sacerdotes (Naps and Priests)

After a busy day Saturday, we had the following one free. Since most of the shops are closed on Sundays here, we decided to observe another staple of the Spanish culture—mass. The cool part about Ronda is that you can wander in any direction and eventually run into a church…so we met up around one o’clock in the afternoon and that’s exactly what we did.  Upon arrival, it was beautiful. The entire building was a collection of fine details that made it into quite the work of art.

Church that we ventured to in the historic district of Ronda

Church that we ventured to in the historic district of Ronda

Beautiful church ceiling and chandelier

Beautiful church ceiling and chandelier

Sculptures and altars

Sculptures and altars

Little did we know at the time that it was the first of many churches we’d be seeing throughout the trip. In any case, the mass followed the same general procedure as those that I’d been to at home. Aside from the fact that the group of people I went with had zero idea as to what the priest was saying, the main differences that we noted was that the congregation didn’t sing at all and that the mass was only a half hour long. I don’t go to mass as often as I did when I was younger anymore, but I do recall lots of singing and at least an hour per each service.

On Sundays, most stores are closed here. So with no work to do yet and plans to explore later, we chose to observe one of the most valued aspects of Spanish culture: SIESTA

Monday: Let the Classes Begin

Everyone knows that first day of school feeling. But instead of reencountering that familiar combination of excitement and anxiousness, I didn’t feel any way at all. I remember walking down Calle de la Bola (Pronounced cah-yay day la boh-la which is the nickname that the street received from wintertime activities…aka children rolling snowballs down its hill) thinking that I couldn’t possibly be in Spain and that I also couldn’t possibly be going to school. I guess one could say that I was in a denial of sorts, but not one of the negative variety.

Classes themselves were originally supposed to take place in the Spanish School for Foreigners (Escuela de Extrañjeros), but due to its far location from some of the students’ host families, Susana arranged for us to take classes in the Palacio de Congresos, which is a municipal building that overlooks the famous bridge. Who doesn’t love a room with a view?

View from the terrace

View from the terrace

From the balcony to the valley

From the balcony to the valley

Inside of the first door. We have class upstairs in conference-type rooms

Inside of the first door. We have class upstairs in conference-type rooms

Each student in the program takes a combination of three classes depending on their level. Having just completed my freshman year at Penn State, I am enrolled in SPAN 200, SPAN 253W, and SPAN 410. The first is my required next level grammar, the second is an analysis of Spanish literature, and the last is advanced conversation. My grammar class is taught by two local professors who switch on and off every week whereas my other two are faculty from Penn State. We have school from 9:00-2:30 Monday through Friday, and each class is an hour and forty minutes long.

We took a field trip during the first period to observe one of Ronda’s many festivals called the Virgen de Rocío at the same church that we’d gone to mass at the day prior. The festival represents a grand trip taken by foot through Andalusia, the province of Spain that Ronda is in, to Rome. 

Festival decor

Festival decor

The Lechugita Experience

After classes and all other things that the day entailed, we decided to reward ourselves with dinner. Two of the students had received a recommendation from their host mom to go to a place on one of the side streets that branched from Calle de la Bola, so we decided to try it out. Most tapas are cheap, but these put the others to shame—they were only 80 cents each! Needless to say, I was a fan. I tried queso with tomato, Spanish meatballs, and tortilla Española (the same dish that I had on the first day at my host house) which were all very good. For ten people, our total check was only 39€, which translates to about $43 with the current exchange rate.

In the weeks since, we’ve discovered that the name of the bar is Lechugita, which means ‘little lettuce’. One of their most successful items on the menu is a section of a head of lettuce topped with olive oil and salt, hence the name. However, at the time we didn’t realize what the place’s name was, and on arrival home when our host mom asked where we’d went, there was a bit of confusion. We had heard about Lechugita before, but didn’t think that we’d ever come across it. The sign on the front of the building is in painted tile and can be easily misconstrued as a painting instead of a name. My roommate and I had thought that lechugita was a popular tapa served at a bunch of different places, so when we told our host mom what we’d eaten, she asked how Lechugita was, to which we responded that we didn’t go and only saw people try the food itself. We didn’t get why she kept insisting that we went to the actual place, but accredited it to the language gap until a week or so later when we learned that the only lechugita served in Ronda is at Lechugita…oops. Rookie mistake.

Tortilla de patatas (left) and albóndigas (meatballs) covered by bread (right)

Tortilla de patatas (left) and albóndigas (meatballs) covered by bread (right)

WE LOVE TAPAS

WE LOVE TAPAS

Tuesday: Exploration Galore

After the second day of classes, we ventured into a few of the oldest parts of Ronda. First, we visited the ‘Museo Municipal’, or Municipal Museum. There we saw different style patios designed by the Arabic, which included the horseshoe arch that will appear more later on. The museum explained the history of Ronda in itself, from the very first inhabitants to more recent structures such as Puente Nuevo, the new bridge.

Entrance to the museum. The concrete structure below the sign used to be used to mount horses due to the relative shortness of the riders in years past

Entrance to the museum. The concrete structure below the sign used to be used to mount horses due to the relative shortness of the riders in years past

Arabic arches

Arabic arches

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Another angle

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An interesting representation of older life in Ronda

Hand carved door separating one of the patios from outside next to a horseshoe arch

Hand carved door separating one of the patios from outside next to a horseshoe arch

The secret garden of the Museo

The secret garden of the Museo

Our next stop was the Baños Arabes, or Arabian Bathrooms. Here we walked through an 800 year old structure that was rediscovered in the 1900’s after being covered by water for centuries. People would bathe themselves twice a day in one of the three rooms. There was a hot, lukewarm, and cold room to choose from, depending on the desired temperature of water. For as old as it was, it was definitely cool to see how advanced the technology was for the time that it was created and used. As can be seen in nearly every entrance, the architects utilized the horseshoe arch.

Outside of the main rooms of Los Baños Arabes

Outside of the main rooms of Los Baños Arabes

Interior rooms with holes in the ceiling used to let steam escape

Interior rooms with holes in the ceiling used to let steam escape

Later on, we walked through the Historic District of Ronda and visited Puente Viejo, or the old bridge. Considering that the new bridge, Puente Nuevo, was built just before 1800, Puente Viejo is clearly very viejo indeed.

El Puente Viejo

El Puente Viejo

Our walk led us to Los Muralles, (Moo-rye-yeys) or The Walls. These were built by the Arabic for the purpose of guarding the city and acting as a watch for any possible invaders, but today they provide a beautiful view of the outskirts of the city.

View from the top of Los Murralles

View from the top of Los Murralles

Looking out into the valley

Looking out into the valley

Wednesday: The City’s Trademarks

Having visited Puente Viejo the day prior, it was only fitting to visit Puente Nuevo the following day. Though we had been walking across it to get to school every day, we hadn’t yet gone inside of it or read about how it came to be the way that it currently is. For those who paused a second thinking that they’d read the statement incorrectly, yes. We went inside of the bridge. The interior room used to be a prison in Ronda, and not too long ago. Our professor, Susana, said that when she was younger, convicts were still held there. I remember laughing at the thought that a bridge over 200 years old was considered to be new, but in the grand scheme of thinking about how old Europe actually is it makes much more sense.

Sideways view of Puente Nuevo. Make note of the small window in the center--this was so that prisoners could have some light and a bit of a view

Sideways view of Puente Nuevo. Make note of the small window in the center–this was so that prisoners could have some light and a bit of a view

Inside of the bridge with a tourist

Inside of the bridge with a tourist

View from the prisoner's window--not too shabby

View from the prisoner’s window–not too shabby

Following our visit to the bridge, we returned to yet another well-known landmark that we’d seen: La Plaza de Toros. This time wasn’t for a show, but rather for a tour. We walked through different sections, learning about the creation of the Plaza, different outfits that bullfighters were supposed to wear. (Picture and explanation) and what each fight was like. Every bullfight consisted of three bullfighters and six bulls. The bullfighters performed in order from the least to most skilled with the first bulls and then repeated the process with the second round of bulls. To simplify, each bullfighter fought one bull at a time and two bulls total.

Bullpen for practice

Bullpen for practice

Students learning to ride horses inside of one of the Plaza's rooms

Students learning to ride horses inside of one of the Plaza’s rooms

Saddle for competitive horse performances

Saddle for competitive horse performances

Typical dress and instruments used during the fights

Typical dress and instruments used during the fights

Typical ladies' attire

Typical ladies’ attire

Hall of bullfighting advertisements for Ronda's annual bullfight

Hall of bullfighting advertisements for Ronda’s annual bullfight

Inside the stadium

Inside the stadium

Am I a bullfighter yet?

Am I a bullfighter yet?

After the general tour, we had the opportunity to see the Plaza’s library. At first, none of the students realized how big of a deal it was, but Susana later told us that the only other person they’d received that day had been the General of the Spanish Army. The library had books as old as the 14th century kept in pristine condition inside the many glass-covered bookshelves that lined the room. For someone who loves books as much as I do, it was incredible.

Shelves on shelves on shelves

Shelves on shelves on shelves

Thursday: Underground Caverns and Lots of Steps

Towards the end of the week we visited La Mina Secreta, or Secret Mine. It was constructed in the 14th century as a military structure and goes 80 m (about 264 feet) descending from the city to the river. We tried to count steps, but lost track about halfway. The caverns were cool to look at but easy to slip on, so we constantly held on to the sides. While all of the rooms were cool to look at, the final few provided the best experience. One room played with sound: two people would stand in diagonally opposite corners of the room, facing the junction of the two walls. One of them would whisper a phrase so that the general audience couldn’t hear it, but because of the structure of the room the whisper carried to the person in the opposite corner.  The room was also structured so that if a person stood in the absolute center and began talking aloud, he or she couldn’t hear any other voice but his or her own. Other visitors saw our group doing this and later joined in after their initial confusion.

One of the many rooms of La Mina

One of the many rooms of La Mina

Once we left that room, we went down a few more steps and stood on a platform that was even with the river. I had thought that I’d seen all of the views that there were to see in Ronda in our intensive first few days, but boy was I wrong. It was absolutely beautiful.

View from the river's level

View from the river’s level

Friday: Dining in Old Ronda

To celebrate the completion of our first week of classes and activities, we decided to treat ourselves to dinner in the Historic District. Like we had been doing during the week, we decided to walk until we stumbled upon a menu that we liked. This particular place had a gorgeous view of the mountains and sunset, complete with a guitarist in the park serenading the customers.

Restaurant scenery with the view in the far back

Restaurant scenery with the view in the far back

This was one of the many moments on the trip where I’d stop and look around, not really believing where I was. I still do that sometimes. For example, now, typing this, staring out my bedroom window on the second to last Monday in the program (I’ve written this over the course of a few weeks due to a heavy workload, tons of fieldtrips, and generally enjoying this city of mine) I have a hard time believing that I am where I am.

When you come to Spain, there is no such thing as getting used to the water—you’re thrown right into it. And while sometimes it’s crazy to stop and think about where you are and what you’re doing, every moment, good and bad, it’s so worth it. Stay tuned for a wrap on the second Saturday’s trip to Sevilla.

 

 

Never a Dull Moment

What. A. Week.

I don’t know where to begin. I guess I’ll start by saying that this is the first time that I’ve had time to sit down and really take everything in. I’ve been in the country for 10 days and sometimes I still look out my window and can’t believe it. With the view I have, how could I not?

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View outside of my bedroom window. Please take note of the palm tree behind the larger house next to the pine trees…

But before I get into all of that, I’ll start from where I left off:

The Journey to Spain

After I had what I considered to be sufficient battery in my phone for the next 12 hours of my life, I left the Helsinki gate and went off to wander around and hopefully find the gate of my own. It was still about an hour and a half before we were supposed to board so I wasn’t in any particular hurry, but I wanted to make sure that I figured out where I was supposed to be to avoid any and all issues. I picked a random hallway and started to walk down it, checking signs for Madrid as I passed. By pure chance, I ran straight into the gate in less than five minutes. Little did I know at the time that this would be the beginning of my long string of good luck that I somehow managed to carry from JFK to Málaga.

I hung out in the gate for a while, recharging my phone for good measure and looking around at the people in the terminal. Do you ever wonder about who you’re surrounded by? I looked at person after person, wondering if they were going home, flying to Madrid as a layover, or if they were just like me. Who else was doing something new that they hadn’t ever before? Who else was a scrambled combination of giddiness and worry? I was brought back from my daze only moments later when a guy who looked to be about my age asked if he could sit down to plug his phone in too. Of course I obliged, and a little while later we got into the “Where are you headed?” conversation that I’d had so many times that day. I gave him my spiel and then asked what he’d be doing in Madrid, but it turned out that he was pulling a Helsinki hangout like I had earlier and was waiting for the next flight out of the gate at 9PM to Qatar with a final destination of Sri Lanka for a medical internship. Having someone to talk to that was doing essentially the same thing that I was definitely welcoming, though simultaneously realized even further what I was about to do. But destinations aside, here’s the kicker:  He asked me where I was from and where I went to school, and upon the reply of Penn State made a snicker. Without missing a beat, I rhetorically asked if he went to Ohio State, even though I already knew the answer by his initial response. Though rivals, I think that we both found a sense of comfort in the fact that someone else was also about to jump in a plane and set off for a strange land.

By the time that the conversation began to wind down, my ticket group was being called so I wished the unnamed Buckeye luck and headed for the boarding line.

Navigating through the Madrid Airport ¡Hola, España!

After an hour delay in takeoff due to a burnt out light bulb in the pilot’s cabin, we left JFK. After an entertaining seven and a half hours of sleeping on and off, eating free airplane food, and listening to a section of German women clap and sing, we arrived in Madrid. It is at this point in the trip that I like to describe myself as a ping pong ball bouncing around or a puzzle piece trying different spots in the frame to find its place. To put it briefly: My conversational Spanish was sub par. I managed to make it to security before I actually spoke with anyone. While my two backpacks and other various contents passed through machine, the guards stared intently at a screen that beheld none other than my Epi-Pens. I’m allergic to a few things and have to carry them in case anything happens, so as I’m sure you can imagine I had an internal uh-oh-what-do-I-do-if-they-ask-me-about-these-I-have-no-vocabulary-for-such-things conversation with myself. Sure enough, the guard asked me what they were in Spanish and I began to fumble over words to describe what they were for. She then asked me for a medical ID, which (thanks to a last minute addition to my belongings by my precautionary mother ) I pulled out with a welcome sense of relief. THANKS MOM.

Once I’d dodged that bullet, I waited for my flight to  Málaga. It was only supposed to be an hour in duration, and since the distance was so short they used a smaller plane since not many people were flying there at the time. Instead of using a tunnel, the passengers all had to go outside and then follow up the stairs as seen here:

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Passengers entering the plane for the flight to Málaga

Post Arrival 

I sat next to a happy Spanish man who whistled for majority of the flight while I slept. Upon arrival to Málaga, I picked up my luggage and headed towards customs. To my surprise, customs really weren’t the kind of customs that I was expecting. In Madrid, they at least stamped my passport and asked a few questions, but in Málaga, they said hi to me and pointed me to the airport exit. I never thought that it would’ve been so relaxed, but was too sleepy at the time to really think about it too deeply.

Since I arrived a day earlier than everyone else in my program, the next step was to try to find out how to locate the bus stop at the airport and navigate through the city to arrive at the hotel that I’d booked for the night. After wandering around for a little while, I found the stop and a bus came shortly after. Looking back now, a lot of the transportation from the beginning was based on being in the right place at the right time. I had read online that the bus was supposed to go from the airport to the hotel, but wasn’t particularly sure how to get to the hotel once I got off the stop. I had assumed that I would walk, but the site said that the hotel was slightly far from where the bus let its passengers off. My dad had looked at it in a previous day and said there was a “footbridge” to cross the street. Until I got there, I didn’t understand the caliber of what he meant. This is what I saw:

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This picture was taken from the bus stop that goes back to the airport the following day.

So here I am, in a strange country, with a language that I don’t yet fluently speak, pushing a three foot tall suitcase at its maximum capacity allowed while also toting two equally heavy backpacks up this HUGE “footbridge”. Even though it was the middle of the day, I was the only one on it at the time. And I couldn’t help but to burst out laughing at myself at the oddity of my situation. I had just successfully navigated halfway across the world on my own and the combination of that and the exhaustion that comes with a time difference was just too funny to me. Needless to say, after I closed the distance between the bridge and the hotel and checked in (successfully using some uncommon vocab from my Spanish classes, who knew it’d come in handy so soon?) I fell right asleep, still in my clothes from the day before.

En Route to Ronda

The next day I met the rest of the group at the airport when their flights came in and we drove to Ronda. I was so excited to finally meet my host family! When we arrived at the station, all of the host moms were eagerly waiting outside of the bus to meet us. Another student in the program and I were paired with the same family, so we waited together until ours found us. We took a walk from the bus station to her house, which was only a few short blocks away.

View from the front of my host house

View from the front of my host house

Inside, we met her dog, Ciro (THEE-roh) which is a mix between a black labrador and a daschund. Picture the face of a lab and the body of a daschund (or as they say here, salchicha, pronounced sal-chee-cha).

The host pup

The host pup sitting in the kitchen on one of the first nights of last week

Shortly after, her son came downstairs. I had previously assumed that I’d be doing the typical cheek-kissing Spanish greeting, but I forgot that it was both cheeks and not just one like it is with Spanish speakers from Latin America that I’ve met. I felt weird about it at first after only doing one side, but it served as a good ice breaker and we all laughed about it later on. My host brother’s name is Pablo and he works from home in a realm of the business world. After getting to know them after this week, a few things are clear: they’re both incredibly nice, Pablo speaks some English, and my mom is a fantastic cook. Pablo helps to close the language gap and supply Spanish words when I don’t know  the translation, and my host mom makes the greatest food. The first day that we arrived we had what she told us was a traditional Spanish dish, called tortilla española. It’s made from potatoes and eggs and is much different from the typical tortilla that most are familiar with in the United States. Instead of being completely flat, this one is about two inches tall. When eaten with tomatoes on the side, it’s a wonderful combination.  I also have another host brother named Juan who is coming home this upcoming weekend to celebrate his birthday. We also go to Madrid this weekend for a few days, so there’s a lot to look forward to in the coming days.

As for what I’ve been up to since arrival, I don’t know where to begin. There’s so much to do, to see, to hear about. We’ve put a week of classes behind us and have seen and done tons of incredible things. Stay tuned for an insight to them in the following posts!

 

 


Location: 29400

T-2 Hours

I cannot sit still.

Actually, that’s a little bit of a lie. I’m not really nervous, not yet anyways. I’m sitting on the floor  eating goldfish (the crackers, not the actual fish–fret not) in the middle of JFK waiting to board my flight to Madrid. My gate isn’t listed yet so I’ve decided to camp out in one that’s bound for Helsinki until it is. Take off is at 7:25, so I still have a little bit of time to go. Getting to the airport and through security was pretty simple, thanks to strategic packing. I can’t say that I learned this skill alone, but when you’re made to rearrange a suitcase to be half a pound lighter to meet the fifty pound weight limit it comes in handy.  I credit the ability to my parents for the endless trips while I was growing up and to my high school career as a cashier. I couldn’t help but to feel a little satisfied in having executed it successfully at the bag check. Even though this is my first time flying alone, I guess it would be pretty bad if I didn’t have it figured out at this point in my life as a traveler.

In any case, Madrid is the first stop. I have a layover there for three hours or so before I catch another plane to Malaga. The rest of the people in my program are arriving on Friday, so I’ll be there a bit earlier than most. I think it’ll probably be good to adjust to the timezone that way and maybe go exchange some dollars for euros in the gap. Once the rest arrive, we’ll take a van from the airport to our host families’ homes in Ronda. My family has a dog!  I know this is so miniscule in the grand scheme of things, but I can’t wait to meet it. My dog at home is huge and I hear that this one is supposed to be little, so that’ll be a nice change of pace.

But besides the actual itinerary, I can’t help but to wonder if my Spanish will be adequate. I’m very hopeful, but also very skeptical. I brought a notepad to write things down so that if I don’t make sense in speaking it’s a little easier to communicate. Getting to my gate in Madrid will be interesting. I’m confident in my abiity to at least read signs, so hopefully that should be enough. Fingers crossed.

As for now, I wait with my goldfish, two backpacks, and Helsinki bound gatemates. Here’s to the start of my adventure.

As taken from JFK’s floor


Location: JFK International Airport