My last full day in Spain was spent with the lovely and always entertaining José Vaquero, whom I met at camp.
August 4 and 5, 2008.
I left the hotel and got into a much friendlier cab than my first in Cordoba and made it to the train station just in time. The high speed train from Cordoba to Madrid was like silk. It travels at 270km/hr (they have a little spedometer you can watch) and has very roomy seats in tourist class (2nd class). It got us to Madrid in an hour and a half. That is unbelievable! To drive would be like 4 or 5 hours. I napped a little bit, and couldn't believe it when we got there ahead of schedule.
I had planned on taking a cab to the bus staion, but I thought, heck, I am making such good time, why not save some money and take the metro. I actually managed to take the correct train in the correct direction to get from Atocha to the bus station. This is a feat for me in the Madrid metro, especially when I have all my luggage with me.
I got to the bus station at 11. My bus was at 11:30, all I had to do was buy my ticket. The line ups in the main madrid bus station are something that should be legend. I got into the ALSA, I was probably the 30th person. Unlike at the train station, they don't have a "next bus" line so if you need to get a ticket ASAP, you can. I got to the front of the line at about 11:22, keep in mind I was wearing my pack the whole time, the woman told me "We don't have a bus that goes to Navalmoral". CRAP.
I looked over at the line for AUTORES (the other company) at least 20 people. There was no way I could get to the front of the line and down to the bus in 7 minutes. Sometimes, you can buy your ticket directly from the driver, so I ran (with my GIANT backpack) down to the terminal to see if I could do that. The driver was not friendly and was not about to help me out. A woman tried to console me and said "don't worry, there is another bus at 2!" I appreciated the sympathy, but having to wait an extra 2 and a half hours AND be late for José after I got up early in Cordoba and packed up all my stuff? I was not a happy camper.
I went upstairs and couldn't handle getting into line right away. I went and sat down in the cafeteria and put my stuff on the floor. A friendly Spanish man nearby suggested that I put my backpack and stuff up on a chair, as that would be easier and more comfortable for me than having it at my legs. I didn't do this at first, but when I wanted to buy a sandwhich, which was about 3 meters from my table, I decided it would be a good idea, so I could keep a constant eye on my stuff. I got my sandwhich and got back to eat it, when this odd lady sat down beside me. All of a sudden, she asked me if I was Spanish, (remember all these conversations are in Spanish) there was a big Canadian flag on my suitcase, so maybe this was a rhetorical question. I told her no I was not, and then she went into a huge diatribe about me putting my suitcase on the chair and how if she sat down in the chair her pants would get dirty and what was I thinking, and something about me not being Spanish (that part wasn't really clear to me). Just to get this wacky lady to shut up, I moved my suitcase to the floor, but I left my backpack, it is usually on my back, not the ground and it is friggin heavy. She seemed pleased, I was not. I am looking forward to coming home and being able to tell weird opinionated people to sod off, something I am not comfortable or that adept at doing in Spain.
The friendly man who told me to put the stuff up there in the first place gave me a very sympathetic look, that was nice.
After leaving the lady who needed to be in my business, I went to get into the line for AUTORES, which sadly, had doubled in number since I left. It now had about 40 people in it and I waited there for half an hour. Something with my backpack cuts off some of the circulation to my hands and so while standing there, my hands kept going numb. I got my ticket and when the bus came I got on without much ado.
I arrived in Navalmoral de la Mata, José's town and he was there at the bus station. He insisted on carrying my backpack to his apartment, which was only a 5 minute walk, but which he immidiately regretted. He later said for the trip back we would drive, I wouldn't allow it, and instead just insisted I carry the pack.
José is a wonderful host. He first let me have his bedroom and he slept in one of his guest rooms. Next, he had lunch all preprepared, pasta salad WITHOUT TUNA, because he remembered I don't like it, and GAZPACHO because he remembered from one of our outings that I did. What a guy!! The gazpacho was even home made from one of his friends, just for me! And it was delicious!
After lunch, we cleaned up and he asked me what I wanted to do. We decided to drive to a nearby town to go swimming. Where we went was a mountain stream coming off of the Sierra something or others in Extramadurra (the province we were in). It was gorgeous! It was also full of Spaniards, including, many of José's neighbors. José complained about how it was soo cold (it was warmer than lakes in Canada, but not bath-like, like the mediterranean) and I told him with the heat it was lovely. We swam around, well I did, he mostly stayed in the sun. Then he took me to a small mountain town to see the town and the church and the castle.
We went back to his apartment where we got ready for dinner, then hit the town! We went to a couple bars, I met his friends and we had dinner. José insisted that I try all of the local specialities. These included fried pigs' ears, which I informed José that only dogs eat in Canada. They were okay, a little too crunchy though, but mostly just tasted like bacon. Also on the menu was sheeps stomach cut up into sqaures and cooked in a thick tomato sauce. The flavour was okay, but soo fatty and just too mooshy. I am pretty adventurous, but the texture was just too much for me. I stuck to the bread and mushrooms mostly.
We went back to José's apartment and after about half an hour in his room, I couldn't take it and slept in the living room, the only room with air conditioning. His room was so hot my face was sweating just lying in bed. He told me the night before he was so hot he couldn't get to sleep until 4am. This meant that on this evening, he slept fine, despite the heat, in the guest room because he was exausted.
I woked up when José was going to work at 8:30 (I think) while he was doing something to the air conditioner and generally trying to make me more comfortable. I fell back asleep until 11:30, when I packed up my things, had some Cola cao (basically nesquick), got dressed and washed a pair of underpants for my last day. He got home about 2:15 and began to put the last of the lunch together. We had homemade pork and zucchini sausage (delicious!), french fries which we made from some very soft potatoes, and a special dish José made ahead just for me, red peppers stuffed with cod! After he was such a good host, there was no way I was going to say anything about the truth of me and peppers. I ate two or three of them until I was stuffed. Everything about the dish except the peppers was extraordinary, the cod was in a creamy sauce with potatoes and cheese. He is an excellent chef.
After that, we looked at each others photos on facebook and his computer and then had an argument about how we were going to the bus station. I won. I put on my backpack and started walking so there wasn't too much he could do. He carried my purse.
The bus ride was great and I slept soundly for most of the way. I made it to Madrid and had a classic Sumantra-Kate cell phone conversation while I tried to navigate the two story Lacoste in Madrid. At one point someone started asking me about sizes, like I worked there. What kind of shop employee wanders around on their cell phone, speaking obnoxiously in English while they are supposed to be working? Well, then again.... it is Europe.
Now I am off for dinner with my old friends, Julian and Lidia. We all worked together at the camp in Salamanca two years ago, and have kept in touch since then, thank you facebook!
Tomorrow morning I am spluring on a cab to the airport, I can't take anymore metro trips with my stuff. I fly to Frankfurt and then to Toronto. Here's hoping it is without incident or excitement. I saw a news report today that said "Atrapados En Barajas" which means "Trapped in Barajas (the Madrid Airport)" unfortunately I didn't understand what they were saying in the story, but I hope everything is alright.
See you soon,
Kate
Tuesday, August 5, 2008
Cordoba and José
Well, savour the flavour, because this will be one of the last blogs of the trip, as my 7 weeks in España has almost come to an end.
Cordoba! Aug 3 and 4, 2008.
After writing that last blog to you on Saturday night, I returned to my room and my tapas turned on me. Yikes! I was lying in bed watching Star Wars in Spanish, when suddenly I didn't feel so good. Then it was one of those intense, horrible nauseas where you think you might just yak all over the room. Mercifully, I did not. I found my gravol and then called Jay. He theorized about the cause of my probable food poisoning and when it was time to go, wished me well and that I not "puke in [my] hair, because that is just awful".
Once the gravol kicked in, I was in a gravol induced coma, common on this trip. Those of you who know of my taste for gravol, know that I am a seasoned user, and that I can usually predict it's effects rather accurately. Not the case on this trip. Any time I have taken the stuff I have been in a sleep so deep, waking up feels like rising from a grave. This was what happen at 3:30pm on Sunday when I awoke and it took me a second to remind myself that I was in Spain, in a hotel. After rising from the grave, I called my grandmother to wish her a happy 80th birthday (yowza!) and set out to see what I could.
Sunday turned into Kate's Day of Arab Hedonism, save the harem. First I went for breakfast, which was really a late lunch at Catre D'Or, dulce de leche ice cream and a crossaint. Sunday was the hottest day I have felt on my trip yet. It was at least 40C in Cordoba, meaning that even the shade afforded little comfort. So since most of the sites were closed, I went from tea room to tea room.
First, I ventured over to the Salon De Té, the tea room suggested in my Let's Go!, it was okay, A lot more open and a lot less opium-den like than the one I visited on Saturday, but also a lot less comfortable. I had the mint lemonade reccomended by the book and yelch! gross, except for those yogurt beverages in Granada, it was the worst drink of the trip. I left there and it was soo hot, that I couldn't make it back to my hostel before going to the other tea room I had discovered and having a pot of jasmine tea, an orange juice, and a bottle of water. I sat myself right by the fan and read about Spanish history while I sipped my tea for almost an hour.
After that I returned to my hotel, got cleaned up and headed out for dinner and to the Arab Baths. Yes, I visited a bath house, but not the kind we have in Toronto. After a delicious kebab and some hummus (I had to keep with the theme) and went over to the baths. Everyone was told to arrive ten minutes before their scheduled time, 10pm. I walked in and was handed a towel, and a bracelet with a number and told to wait while I read the directions. The men were taken in to change, though the change rooms were seperate, there wasn't exactly a ton of privacy between them so the two genders were brought in seperately.
I was then herded into the tiny women's changeroom with about 15 other women. It was a cramped sea of bathing suits and towels and flip flops. Eventually we all made it out wearing our bath suits and the bathing adventure could begin! There were three rooms, all quite dark, and all containing baths with a different temperature of water. The 'baths' ranged in size and shape. In the cold room, there were two long rectangular tiled tubs, about 3 feet by 6 feet. In the warm room, there was a large sqaure pool, probably at least 12 feet by 12 feet, maybe more. In the hot room, there were two squarish tubs, about 5 feet by 6 feet, and a door to the turkish bath (steam room). After several rotations through the cycle (warm, then hot, then cold) I was called for my massage.
There were 6 massage tables in the warm room where one by one everyone is called up for their 15 minute massage. They cover you in oil and proceed to very lightly rub your skin. It is a little strange because you are lying there in your bathsuit with the back undone in a huge room full of people, getting greased up. It is relaxing but not really as enjoyable as a real massage and mostly you are just really oily in the end. I couldn't help but laugh during my massage, because the masseuse at the table beside mine called out "Silencio por favor!" in an almost Gregorian like chant every two or three minutes to the bathers who were not keeping the level of decorum required. Much like the children at the camp to whom I made the same request, they didn't listen.
After the massage, I took another quick dip, changed and headed back to the hotel. Monday morning I woke up packed my things and made my train for Madrid. The story of my travels and visit with José will come later.
From José's living room in Navalmoral de la Mata,
Kate
Cordoba! Aug 3 and 4, 2008.
After writing that last blog to you on Saturday night, I returned to my room and my tapas turned on me. Yikes! I was lying in bed watching Star Wars in Spanish, when suddenly I didn't feel so good. Then it was one of those intense, horrible nauseas where you think you might just yak all over the room. Mercifully, I did not. I found my gravol and then called Jay. He theorized about the cause of my probable food poisoning and when it was time to go, wished me well and that I not "puke in [my] hair, because that is just awful".
Once the gravol kicked in, I was in a gravol induced coma, common on this trip. Those of you who know of my taste for gravol, know that I am a seasoned user, and that I can usually predict it's effects rather accurately. Not the case on this trip. Any time I have taken the stuff I have been in a sleep so deep, waking up feels like rising from a grave. This was what happen at 3:30pm on Sunday when I awoke and it took me a second to remind myself that I was in Spain, in a hotel. After rising from the grave, I called my grandmother to wish her a happy 80th birthday (yowza!) and set out to see what I could.
Sunday turned into Kate's Day of Arab Hedonism, save the harem. First I went for breakfast, which was really a late lunch at Catre D'Or, dulce de leche ice cream and a crossaint. Sunday was the hottest day I have felt on my trip yet. It was at least 40C in Cordoba, meaning that even the shade afforded little comfort. So since most of the sites were closed, I went from tea room to tea room.
First, I ventured over to the Salon De Té, the tea room suggested in my Let's Go!, it was okay, A lot more open and a lot less opium-den like than the one I visited on Saturday, but also a lot less comfortable. I had the mint lemonade reccomended by the book and yelch! gross, except for those yogurt beverages in Granada, it was the worst drink of the trip. I left there and it was soo hot, that I couldn't make it back to my hostel before going to the other tea room I had discovered and having a pot of jasmine tea, an orange juice, and a bottle of water. I sat myself right by the fan and read about Spanish history while I sipped my tea for almost an hour.
After that I returned to my hotel, got cleaned up and headed out for dinner and to the Arab Baths. Yes, I visited a bath house, but not the kind we have in Toronto. After a delicious kebab and some hummus (I had to keep with the theme) and went over to the baths. Everyone was told to arrive ten minutes before their scheduled time, 10pm. I walked in and was handed a towel, and a bracelet with a number and told to wait while I read the directions. The men were taken in to change, though the change rooms were seperate, there wasn't exactly a ton of privacy between them so the two genders were brought in seperately.
I was then herded into the tiny women's changeroom with about 15 other women. It was a cramped sea of bathing suits and towels and flip flops. Eventually we all made it out wearing our bath suits and the bathing adventure could begin! There were three rooms, all quite dark, and all containing baths with a different temperature of water. The 'baths' ranged in size and shape. In the cold room, there were two long rectangular tiled tubs, about 3 feet by 6 feet. In the warm room, there was a large sqaure pool, probably at least 12 feet by 12 feet, maybe more. In the hot room, there were two squarish tubs, about 5 feet by 6 feet, and a door to the turkish bath (steam room). After several rotations through the cycle (warm, then hot, then cold) I was called for my massage.
There were 6 massage tables in the warm room where one by one everyone is called up for their 15 minute massage. They cover you in oil and proceed to very lightly rub your skin. It is a little strange because you are lying there in your bathsuit with the back undone in a huge room full of people, getting greased up. It is relaxing but not really as enjoyable as a real massage and mostly you are just really oily in the end. I couldn't help but laugh during my massage, because the masseuse at the table beside mine called out "Silencio por favor!" in an almost Gregorian like chant every two or three minutes to the bathers who were not keeping the level of decorum required. Much like the children at the camp to whom I made the same request, they didn't listen.
After the massage, I took another quick dip, changed and headed back to the hotel. Monday morning I woke up packed my things and made my train for Madrid. The story of my travels and visit with José will come later.
From José's living room in Navalmoral de la Mata,
Kate
Saturday, August 2, 2008
Dog and Pony Shows
July 30 - August 2, 2008
Seville, or Sevilla as the Spanish say, is where I spent 3 interesting days. As I mentioned before, my hostel was the most beautiful one of the trip with interior courtyards awash with plants. My first day there I saw the art museum in the afternoon and then had dinner and wandered around a little bit.
The next day, Thursday, I was planning on getting up early to go to the flea market then go to the Cathedral and then shop. I slept in, and instead, skipped the flea market (who needs fleas anyhow?) had a coffee and went straight to the Cathedral. Oddly enough, after lunch I was so tired, that I went back to my hostel, and slept some more. I got up, walked around for a while before I had dinner, (I didn't think it was right to eat, sleep and then eat again right away) and then I returned to Fres.Co the basically giant salad bar buffet I had eaten at the night before. (€9.95 for all your courses and as much gazpacho as you want?!!? Can I buy a franchise?) After the salad feast I used the internet until the desk guy told me it was time to go to bed (I was writing the last blog entry) and then I talked to my folks.
Friday morning I slept in again and this time just went straight to lunch. After lunch, determined not to be a sloth, I went directly to the Alcazar (okay I shopped a little) and did the full audioguide tour. The Alcazar is Islamic converted to Catholic palace in Cordoba (they pretty much have one in all the major cities of Andalucia). After the Alcazar I had some water and went to visit an old hospital for for old, decreped, poor, ill priests. It wasn't so much a hospital as an old folks' home. It was very beautiful though, and contained an impressive interior courtyard and church with more reliquaries than you can shake someone's tibia at. After that I took myself on the walking tour described in my Let's Go! (my travel bible) which included a bar that had the best tinto de verano (Sangria's less boozy cousin, the wine sprtizer) I have had yet, as the book promised and found Calle Susona. The full story on Calle Susona is in the captions of the pictures of it, found on facebook, or by following the links in the Pictures entry from yesterday.
After the walking tour, I went searching for Lactose, as I have been told it is very cheap here and since Jason and Sumantra are both partial to it, it seemed like a worthy quest. Unfortunately, someone's directions were incorrect and I did not find it, and now, there is no Lactose in Cordoba.
I was supposed to go to the Arab bath in Seville this morning before catching my bus to Cordoba. I did not. I was up late talking to Jay and I had to pack up all my stuff and I just flaked out.
Instead of taking the 2 hour bus to Cordoba, I took th 45 minute train ride, which would have been about the same price, had I not accidentally purchased two tickets. I was too embarassed to correct the mistake, and instead, enjoyed the space my extra seat afforded me.
I got to Cordoba and had the rudest cab driver I think I have ever encountered. First he was convinced I scratched his car with my backpack ( I did not) then when I was digging through my wallet, looking for a tip, he yelled at me to get out of the cab quicker because I was holding up traffic. Maybe if he hadn't stopped the car in the middle of the street, and pulled off to the side like a real driver, the traffic would not have been a problem. Unfortunately my Spanish is not good enough for me to have told him where he could have put the tip.
Cordoba is wonderful, it is much smaller than Seville and has a mosque turned cathedral that can accomodate something like 20,000. I toured it today and couldn´t believe how intricate and beautiful it was. While wandering around the souvenir shops afterwards, I was harassed by gypsies for money. I was actually surprised that I have been in Spain for 61/2 weeks and this was the first gypsie harrassment I have encountered.
After excaping creepy old ladies, I made another appointment to go to Arab bath's here, which I had to pay for in advance, so it looks like I am going. Then I got cleaned up, had dinner and went to the Andalucian horse show!
The horsemanship and dressage was spectactular. The combination of flamenco and dressage was odd. The flamenco itself was bad. Just plain bad. I walked back up here and now here I am typing this to you.
It is time for bed, more Cordoba tomorrow, then José on Monday and Inés on Tuesday and home Wednesday.
Later Alligators,
Kate
Seville, or Sevilla as the Spanish say, is where I spent 3 interesting days. As I mentioned before, my hostel was the most beautiful one of the trip with interior courtyards awash with plants. My first day there I saw the art museum in the afternoon and then had dinner and wandered around a little bit.
The next day, Thursday, I was planning on getting up early to go to the flea market then go to the Cathedral and then shop. I slept in, and instead, skipped the flea market (who needs fleas anyhow?) had a coffee and went straight to the Cathedral. Oddly enough, after lunch I was so tired, that I went back to my hostel, and slept some more. I got up, walked around for a while before I had dinner, (I didn't think it was right to eat, sleep and then eat again right away) and then I returned to Fres.Co the basically giant salad bar buffet I had eaten at the night before. (€9.95 for all your courses and as much gazpacho as you want?!!? Can I buy a franchise?) After the salad feast I used the internet until the desk guy told me it was time to go to bed (I was writing the last blog entry) and then I talked to my folks.
Friday morning I slept in again and this time just went straight to lunch. After lunch, determined not to be a sloth, I went directly to the Alcazar (okay I shopped a little) and did the full audioguide tour. The Alcazar is Islamic converted to Catholic palace in Cordoba (they pretty much have one in all the major cities of Andalucia). After the Alcazar I had some water and went to visit an old hospital for for old, decreped, poor, ill priests. It wasn't so much a hospital as an old folks' home. It was very beautiful though, and contained an impressive interior courtyard and church with more reliquaries than you can shake someone's tibia at. After that I took myself on the walking tour described in my Let's Go! (my travel bible) which included a bar that had the best tinto de verano (Sangria's less boozy cousin, the wine sprtizer) I have had yet, as the book promised and found Calle Susona. The full story on Calle Susona is in the captions of the pictures of it, found on facebook, or by following the links in the Pictures entry from yesterday.
After the walking tour, I went searching for Lactose, as I have been told it is very cheap here and since Jason and Sumantra are both partial to it, it seemed like a worthy quest. Unfortunately, someone's directions were incorrect and I did not find it, and now, there is no Lactose in Cordoba.
I was supposed to go to the Arab bath in Seville this morning before catching my bus to Cordoba. I did not. I was up late talking to Jay and I had to pack up all my stuff and I just flaked out.
Instead of taking the 2 hour bus to Cordoba, I took th 45 minute train ride, which would have been about the same price, had I not accidentally purchased two tickets. I was too embarassed to correct the mistake, and instead, enjoyed the space my extra seat afforded me.
I got to Cordoba and had the rudest cab driver I think I have ever encountered. First he was convinced I scratched his car with my backpack ( I did not) then when I was digging through my wallet, looking for a tip, he yelled at me to get out of the cab quicker because I was holding up traffic. Maybe if he hadn't stopped the car in the middle of the street, and pulled off to the side like a real driver, the traffic would not have been a problem. Unfortunately my Spanish is not good enough for me to have told him where he could have put the tip.
Cordoba is wonderful, it is much smaller than Seville and has a mosque turned cathedral that can accomodate something like 20,000. I toured it today and couldn´t believe how intricate and beautiful it was. While wandering around the souvenir shops afterwards, I was harassed by gypsies for money. I was actually surprised that I have been in Spain for 61/2 weeks and this was the first gypsie harrassment I have encountered.
After excaping creepy old ladies, I made another appointment to go to Arab bath's here, which I had to pay for in advance, so it looks like I am going. Then I got cleaned up, had dinner and went to the Andalucian horse show!
The horsemanship and dressage was spectactular. The combination of flamenco and dressage was odd. The flamenco itself was bad. Just plain bad. I walked back up here and now here I am typing this to you.
It is time for bed, more Cordoba tomorrow, then José on Monday and Inés on Tuesday and home Wednesday.
Later Alligators,
Kate
Friday, August 1, 2008
Pictures!
I am too lazy to write about Seville yet, but on facebook I have posted oodles of photos.
They are from Madrid, Cuenca, Ronda, Arcos De la Fronterra, and Seville. Sadly, the photos of Valencia and the camp were lost. Each album holds 60 photos, so there are 3 albums, and thus three different links below, all of which will link you to a different album.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=123547&l=5c871&id=827495345
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=124833&l=6dfda&id=827495345
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=137499&l=bd020&id=827495345
hasta luego
kate
They are from Madrid, Cuenca, Ronda, Arcos De la Fronterra, and Seville. Sadly, the photos of Valencia and the camp were lost. Each album holds 60 photos, so there are 3 albums, and thus three different links below, all of which will link you to a different album.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=123547&l=5c871&id=827495345
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=124833&l=6dfda&id=827495345
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=137499&l=bd020&id=827495345
hasta luego
kate
Thursday, July 31, 2008
Help me Ronda
It is quite hot here, so the beach boys seemed appropriate.
The afternoon of July 28, 2008.
I got to my bus with all my things intact and headed out for Ronda, mercifully, my bus mates relieved themselves prior to the trip or held it until I fell asleep.
I got to Ronda about 7pm and got to my hotel without problem. It was a lovely little spot with my own bathroom (except for staying with friends, I now will only have my own washroom for the rest of the trip, how decadent!) and a honking AC in the room. I spent a little while on the hotel computer which was painfully slow and then wandered out to shop and eat. Ronda has a main pedestrian shopping street that is about 2 km long. I did a lap of it, noting in my head the camera store, to replace my beloved and the prices for the 'menú del día' s along the way. (Fixed price 3 course meals with a drink, the best deals.) I had dinner at a nice place and even though they didn't have natilla (vanilla-custard pudding with a digestive cookie on top) on the menu, when I ordered flan for dessert, they sadly informed me they had natilla instead, I was thrilled.
After dinner I wandered around looking for an internet café with a quicker connection than in my hotel and found one in a teeny little bar close to the gorge. I had an excellent msn conversation with sumantra and researched my stolen camera and replacements.
July 29, 2008.
The next day I got up, stored my stuff at the bus station (the shop stored it for me because apparently their lockers are not the best) and went shopping. Well not at first, first I called the insurance company to make damn sure they were going to reimburse me for the stolen camera before I bought a new one. Then I bought my new best friend, at least while I am here alone that is. I got a new canon IXUS camera in a fun shade of reddy-brown. Jay asked if there was shoes to go with it, I told him to shut up. It is the same model as the one I had, just the newer version, and much smaller, which actually makes it easier to keep track of. I later found out I got a bit ripped off pricewize, compared to Canada that is, but seeing as how now is the time I need a camera, I will get over it.
I had lunch at a restaurant built into the side of Ronda's famous gorge and took a stroll. I made it for my bus and was off on a nauseating, but beautiful trip to Arcos de la Fronterra, a pueblo blanco built perilously on the top of a mass of earth jutting straight up from the ground. It is not a mountain, nor a peninsula, just this huge piece of earth carved out by a river, that somehow has a town built on top of it.
After realizing that the reservation I asked my Spanish friend Lidia to make for me was non-existent, I booked myself a room at the Hotel La Fonda. Again, the room was great, AC and my own bathroom, and as I related to Jay, the highest ceilings I have ever seen in a bedroom anywhere. Want to know what he said? "Makes it tougher for the guests to hang themselves" Sick. I decided to ignore this comment and instead focussed on the beauty of the place.
I made my way up the steep winding streets to the various places of interest Arcos has, all of them closed for visitors. Most interesting are the two huge churches perched up there, which for years battled for supremacy, St. Mary of the Assumption and The Church of Saint Peter. The feud between the two grew so great that at St. Peter's they stopped saying the word 'Mary' in their prayers, and replaced it with 'God' or something else to try to make it fit. Those wacky catholics.
I had dinner and retired to my room to watch several hours of American crime shows dubbed over in Spanish. It was sadly pretty easy to follow even when I couldn't understand the dialogue, I think the 'subtleties' are even less subtle when you miss what is being said, because in every show within 5 minutes in I was sure of who committed the murder.
June 30, 2008.
Today is entitled 'looking for the bus station'. After asking the hotel desk to call me a cab to the bus station, they said, nonsense, you can just walk there, it is just down the street and then make a right and then...... 5 minutes, maybe 10. They even offered to store my luggage for the 4 hours until my bus. I thought, 'Super! I will walk their now, check the schedule, buy my ticket and have loads of time for a nice lunch and to find the internet café!' Not so much. After wandering for 2 hours and asking as many people as I thought necessary without looking like an idiot I found the station.
When I got there it was just after two and so the ticket terminal was closed and all there was posted was a sign of when the buses headed to Seville. This is how the times were written:
Arcos-Seville
Salida Salida Salida
07,00 07,00 07,00
15,00 15,30 16,00
Clear no? Do they have buses at each of these times? Are the departing (Salida) buses the ones on top, on the bottom or both, what do the columns mean? I called the numbers listed below and spoke to a woman who first told me the bus was at 5pm. I said, the sign says 4pm, she checked and said oh, 3pm. I tried to ask if there was another bus at 3:30 or 4, as it was now after 2 and I still needed to eat. She repeated 3pm. I took a cab from the bus station to the hotel, had him wait while I got my stuff and then drive me back down to the bus station, where I had lunch in the cafeteria. It was one of the better gazpachos of the trip.
Two hours later and I was in Seville! I am at the most beautiful hostel yet of the trip and I am having a wonderful time, save the fact that it is time to come home. I am trying to keep busy and keep enjoying this time I worked hard for at the camp, but I am ready to be back with friends, family and Jay, especially since I will be moving so far away in September.
It is dinner time once again, so I will bid you adios, and regale you with stories of Sevilla tomorrow,
Kate
The afternoon of July 28, 2008.
I got to my bus with all my things intact and headed out for Ronda, mercifully, my bus mates relieved themselves prior to the trip or held it until I fell asleep.
I got to Ronda about 7pm and got to my hotel without problem. It was a lovely little spot with my own bathroom (except for staying with friends, I now will only have my own washroom for the rest of the trip, how decadent!) and a honking AC in the room. I spent a little while on the hotel computer which was painfully slow and then wandered out to shop and eat. Ronda has a main pedestrian shopping street that is about 2 km long. I did a lap of it, noting in my head the camera store, to replace my beloved and the prices for the 'menú del día' s along the way. (Fixed price 3 course meals with a drink, the best deals.) I had dinner at a nice place and even though they didn't have natilla (vanilla-custard pudding with a digestive cookie on top) on the menu, when I ordered flan for dessert, they sadly informed me they had natilla instead, I was thrilled.
After dinner I wandered around looking for an internet café with a quicker connection than in my hotel and found one in a teeny little bar close to the gorge. I had an excellent msn conversation with sumantra and researched my stolen camera and replacements.
July 29, 2008.
The next day I got up, stored my stuff at the bus station (the shop stored it for me because apparently their lockers are not the best) and went shopping. Well not at first, first I called the insurance company to make damn sure they were going to reimburse me for the stolen camera before I bought a new one. Then I bought my new best friend, at least while I am here alone that is. I got a new canon IXUS camera in a fun shade of reddy-brown. Jay asked if there was shoes to go with it, I told him to shut up. It is the same model as the one I had, just the newer version, and much smaller, which actually makes it easier to keep track of. I later found out I got a bit ripped off pricewize, compared to Canada that is, but seeing as how now is the time I need a camera, I will get over it.
I had lunch at a restaurant built into the side of Ronda's famous gorge and took a stroll. I made it for my bus and was off on a nauseating, but beautiful trip to Arcos de la Fronterra, a pueblo blanco built perilously on the top of a mass of earth jutting straight up from the ground. It is not a mountain, nor a peninsula, just this huge piece of earth carved out by a river, that somehow has a town built on top of it.
After realizing that the reservation I asked my Spanish friend Lidia to make for me was non-existent, I booked myself a room at the Hotel La Fonda. Again, the room was great, AC and my own bathroom, and as I related to Jay, the highest ceilings I have ever seen in a bedroom anywhere. Want to know what he said? "Makes it tougher for the guests to hang themselves" Sick. I decided to ignore this comment and instead focussed on the beauty of the place.
I made my way up the steep winding streets to the various places of interest Arcos has, all of them closed for visitors. Most interesting are the two huge churches perched up there, which for years battled for supremacy, St. Mary of the Assumption and The Church of Saint Peter. The feud between the two grew so great that at St. Peter's they stopped saying the word 'Mary' in their prayers, and replaced it with 'God' or something else to try to make it fit. Those wacky catholics.
I had dinner and retired to my room to watch several hours of American crime shows dubbed over in Spanish. It was sadly pretty easy to follow even when I couldn't understand the dialogue, I think the 'subtleties' are even less subtle when you miss what is being said, because in every show within 5 minutes in I was sure of who committed the murder.
June 30, 2008.
Today is entitled 'looking for the bus station'. After asking the hotel desk to call me a cab to the bus station, they said, nonsense, you can just walk there, it is just down the street and then make a right and then...... 5 minutes, maybe 10. They even offered to store my luggage for the 4 hours until my bus. I thought, 'Super! I will walk their now, check the schedule, buy my ticket and have loads of time for a nice lunch and to find the internet café!' Not so much. After wandering for 2 hours and asking as many people as I thought necessary without looking like an idiot I found the station.
When I got there it was just after two and so the ticket terminal was closed and all there was posted was a sign of when the buses headed to Seville. This is how the times were written:
Arcos-Seville
Salida Salida Salida
07,00 07,00 07,00
15,00 15,30 16,00
Clear no? Do they have buses at each of these times? Are the departing (Salida) buses the ones on top, on the bottom or both, what do the columns mean? I called the numbers listed below and spoke to a woman who first told me the bus was at 5pm. I said, the sign says 4pm, she checked and said oh, 3pm. I tried to ask if there was another bus at 3:30 or 4, as it was now after 2 and I still needed to eat. She repeated 3pm. I took a cab from the bus station to the hotel, had him wait while I got my stuff and then drive me back down to the bus station, where I had lunch in the cafeteria. It was one of the better gazpachos of the trip.
Two hours later and I was in Seville! I am at the most beautiful hostel yet of the trip and I am having a wonderful time, save the fact that it is time to come home. I am trying to keep busy and keep enjoying this time I worked hard for at the camp, but I am ready to be back with friends, family and Jay, especially since I will be moving so far away in September.
It is dinner time once again, so I will bid you adios, and regale you with stories of Sevilla tomorrow,
Kate
...Authors, Olives Continued
Let us continue our story...
... After hanging up the phone with Katrina, I set out to see the Albaicín, the Arab quarter of Granada. Sadly, after the grandeur of the Alhambra, the Albaicín was little more than an tangled web of streets to get lost it. Attractive, but not really containing anything overly thrilling. After wandering around confused for over an hour, I decided it was time to get out of this strange place and have a drink.
I managed to work my way down to the base of the penninsula below the Alhambra to a gorgeous string of cafés, all with patios shaded by canvas and vines overhead. I ordered myself a sangria and set out to begin the 'Tales of the Alhambra' by the American writer Washington Irving. This was about the time things started to spiral downward. I have elected to blame Irving for getting me into this mess, and laud the Canadian author Stuart McLean for getting me out of it.
A little bit of backstory. At the turn of the last century, Washington Irving was one the few people inhabiting the Alhambra, living in the Nasrid Palaces. The place had fallen into disrepair and was available to live in for various locals and wandering 'diplomats', like Irving. He wrote a series of fictional tales which took place in the Alhambra, fleecing in a little bit of accurate history as he went. While I was swept up in the glamour and intrigue of the place on my visit, my trusty audioguide whispered in my ear his words describing the place and his experiences living there. At the end of my tour, having finished all my other books and yearning for some further literary excitement, I purchased a copy of his book on sale there.
So, now a few hours later, I was there at the café, enjoying my sangria and deciding it was time to be swept away once again. This was the last time I saw my camera. Remember the numerous photos I described taking? Gone. I don't know if I left it at that café, or if while reading Irving it was snatched from my bag, or if, after reading, while I gleefully wandered back to my hostel and shopped, it was snatched then. Remember the bulky, heavy present I bought for my father? Add to that Irving's book, a guide of the Alhambra (which thank goodness I purchased or I would have no photos) and other items I picked up while shopping and I was carrying a heck of a lot of heavy stuff. For this reason, I didn't even notice the camera missing until I was back at my hostel, searching through my bag.
When I realized it was gone, I freaked out. I went into that state of panic one is in where they aren't really sure if something important is gone, and they are hoping it has all just been a silly mistake. After taking a full account of everything in that 7x8 room, I hopped in a cab and went back up to the café where the mess began. Damn you Irving! The waiter claimed to have bussed the table and seen no sight of it. I went to every store I had purchased something from, same story. While in the last store, the woman told me there were many thefts in the plaza (square), hearing that and having checked every reasonable place, I was pretty damned upset.
I walked back in the same steps I took an hour previously, when I was so overcome with joy, now overcome with my own idiocy. I got back to my hostel and I cried. It wasn't really necessary, it was just a camera. My passport and wallet were still fully intact, along with my health and well being. It was just one of those moments when you are alone in a place far from home and something goes wrong. You can't really do the normal things to deal with it, and you don't know anyone near you who can help. I checked my insurance policy and discovered, thank goodness, it was covered and then I called my brother. He was supportive.
This is where Stuart McLean comes in. On this trip, I brought with me his most recent book of short stories, the copy I purchased for my grandfather last summer. His stories are funny, touching and most importantly so Canadian, and so Toronto. Any time on this trip I have been having a shitty day, or been feeling lonely or homesick, I have pulled out the Vinyl Café, and suddenly I am at home with friends and laughing. So after reading a few stories, I was back on my feet and headed off to an internet café where I spoke to my mom on Skype. Another supportive, helpful voice.
It was 1am by the time I finished and I still had not yet had dinner. Unfortunately, everything was closed so I went to a convenice store and bought a loaf of bread, a package of chorizo (salami) and some yogurt drinks (both of which tasted like medicines I remember from my childhood). I ate my dinner in my tiny room, and tried to wrap up the remaining chorizo as well as I could, to prevent all of my things from smelling like sausage in the morning.
The next morning I was off, my things we packed and I was in cab destined for the bus station, to store my luggage, while I took care of official business. At first things were proceeding all right, I bought my ticket for Ronda, and found the lockers. I did what everyone does, found some empty lockers and put my stuff in. When it came time to put in the money however, I discovered that there was a machine I had to buy a token from to put into the locker, and of course I had no change. I ran to the pharmacy 5 feet away and tried to buy a pack of gum with a twenty, no dice. The woman told me to try to station cafeteria. Unfortunately, it was 50 feet away from the pharmacy, and thus 55 feet away from the unlocked lockers that currently held all my belongings save the items that never leave my person (passport, wallet, travelguide). I ran to the cafeteria to try to order a coke para llevar and did a dance similar to the one people do when they have to pee but are trapped somewhere. It took FOREVER, and all the while all I could think was, maybe someone is now stealing the rest of my stuff, did I get a close enough look at the various people loitering around the lockers, were they really waiting for a bus? After assuming everything I owned had been stolen, I finally got my coke and ran like a crazy person back to my lockers. Here is the stupid part, instead of checking to make sure my things were inside, I just slipped in the token and locked it... At this point I began to wonder if they were, but I decided the peace of mind was not worth another 3 euros and headed off to the police station.
I walked to the station practicing the sentence in Spanish over and over to that I needed to say to the police officers. ¨Yesterday I lost my camera, I am not sure if I lost it, or if I was stolen, but I need a document for my insurance.¨ Luckily after repeating this phrase to 3 different people I was ushered into an office, ready to make my first police statement ever, in any language. The officers wer really nice. They told me there were a lot of Canadians in Granada, and it was one of my less confusing Spanish conversations actually. After getting what I needed I hopped in a cab to buy some travel necessities (new pants so I would no longer only have spandex to wear) and made it back in time to catch the bus for Ronda. And yes, when I opened the locker, my things were all inside, intact and unharmed.
Later I will recount the tales of Ronda and Arcos De La Fronterra, neither of which had as much excitement as Granada (thank goodness). Today I am in Seville for my 2nd of 4 days and it is time to see the cathedral.
Hasta luego (until later)
Kate
... After hanging up the phone with Katrina, I set out to see the Albaicín, the Arab quarter of Granada. Sadly, after the grandeur of the Alhambra, the Albaicín was little more than an tangled web of streets to get lost it. Attractive, but not really containing anything overly thrilling. After wandering around confused for over an hour, I decided it was time to get out of this strange place and have a drink.
I managed to work my way down to the base of the penninsula below the Alhambra to a gorgeous string of cafés, all with patios shaded by canvas and vines overhead. I ordered myself a sangria and set out to begin the 'Tales of the Alhambra' by the American writer Washington Irving. This was about the time things started to spiral downward. I have elected to blame Irving for getting me into this mess, and laud the Canadian author Stuart McLean for getting me out of it.
A little bit of backstory. At the turn of the last century, Washington Irving was one the few people inhabiting the Alhambra, living in the Nasrid Palaces. The place had fallen into disrepair and was available to live in for various locals and wandering 'diplomats', like Irving. He wrote a series of fictional tales which took place in the Alhambra, fleecing in a little bit of accurate history as he went. While I was swept up in the glamour and intrigue of the place on my visit, my trusty audioguide whispered in my ear his words describing the place and his experiences living there. At the end of my tour, having finished all my other books and yearning for some further literary excitement, I purchased a copy of his book on sale there.
So, now a few hours later, I was there at the café, enjoying my sangria and deciding it was time to be swept away once again. This was the last time I saw my camera. Remember the numerous photos I described taking? Gone. I don't know if I left it at that café, or if while reading Irving it was snatched from my bag, or if, after reading, while I gleefully wandered back to my hostel and shopped, it was snatched then. Remember the bulky, heavy present I bought for my father? Add to that Irving's book, a guide of the Alhambra (which thank goodness I purchased or I would have no photos) and other items I picked up while shopping and I was carrying a heck of a lot of heavy stuff. For this reason, I didn't even notice the camera missing until I was back at my hostel, searching through my bag.
When I realized it was gone, I freaked out. I went into that state of panic one is in where they aren't really sure if something important is gone, and they are hoping it has all just been a silly mistake. After taking a full account of everything in that 7x8 room, I hopped in a cab and went back up to the café where the mess began. Damn you Irving! The waiter claimed to have bussed the table and seen no sight of it. I went to every store I had purchased something from, same story. While in the last store, the woman told me there were many thefts in the plaza (square), hearing that and having checked every reasonable place, I was pretty damned upset.
I walked back in the same steps I took an hour previously, when I was so overcome with joy, now overcome with my own idiocy. I got back to my hostel and I cried. It wasn't really necessary, it was just a camera. My passport and wallet were still fully intact, along with my health and well being. It was just one of those moments when you are alone in a place far from home and something goes wrong. You can't really do the normal things to deal with it, and you don't know anyone near you who can help. I checked my insurance policy and discovered, thank goodness, it was covered and then I called my brother. He was supportive.
This is where Stuart McLean comes in. On this trip, I brought with me his most recent book of short stories, the copy I purchased for my grandfather last summer. His stories are funny, touching and most importantly so Canadian, and so Toronto. Any time on this trip I have been having a shitty day, or been feeling lonely or homesick, I have pulled out the Vinyl Café, and suddenly I am at home with friends and laughing. So after reading a few stories, I was back on my feet and headed off to an internet café where I spoke to my mom on Skype. Another supportive, helpful voice.
It was 1am by the time I finished and I still had not yet had dinner. Unfortunately, everything was closed so I went to a convenice store and bought a loaf of bread, a package of chorizo (salami) and some yogurt drinks (both of which tasted like medicines I remember from my childhood). I ate my dinner in my tiny room, and tried to wrap up the remaining chorizo as well as I could, to prevent all of my things from smelling like sausage in the morning.
The next morning I was off, my things we packed and I was in cab destined for the bus station, to store my luggage, while I took care of official business. At first things were proceeding all right, I bought my ticket for Ronda, and found the lockers. I did what everyone does, found some empty lockers and put my stuff in. When it came time to put in the money however, I discovered that there was a machine I had to buy a token from to put into the locker, and of course I had no change. I ran to the pharmacy 5 feet away and tried to buy a pack of gum with a twenty, no dice. The woman told me to try to station cafeteria. Unfortunately, it was 50 feet away from the pharmacy, and thus 55 feet away from the unlocked lockers that currently held all my belongings save the items that never leave my person (passport, wallet, travelguide). I ran to the cafeteria to try to order a coke para llevar and did a dance similar to the one people do when they have to pee but are trapped somewhere. It took FOREVER, and all the while all I could think was, maybe someone is now stealing the rest of my stuff, did I get a close enough look at the various people loitering around the lockers, were they really waiting for a bus? After assuming everything I owned had been stolen, I finally got my coke and ran like a crazy person back to my lockers. Here is the stupid part, instead of checking to make sure my things were inside, I just slipped in the token and locked it... At this point I began to wonder if they were, but I decided the peace of mind was not worth another 3 euros and headed off to the police station.
I walked to the station practicing the sentence in Spanish over and over to that I needed to say to the police officers. ¨Yesterday I lost my camera, I am not sure if I lost it, or if I was stolen, but I need a document for my insurance.¨ Luckily after repeating this phrase to 3 different people I was ushered into an office, ready to make my first police statement ever, in any language. The officers wer really nice. They told me there were a lot of Canadians in Granada, and it was one of my less confusing Spanish conversations actually. After getting what I needed I hopped in a cab to buy some travel necessities (new pants so I would no longer only have spandex to wear) and made it back in time to catch the bus for Ronda. And yes, when I opened the locker, my things were all inside, intact and unharmed.
Later I will recount the tales of Ronda and Arcos De La Fronterra, neither of which had as much excitement as Granada (thank goodness). Today I am in Seville for my 2nd of 4 days and it is time to see the cathedral.
Hasta luego (until later)
Kate
Monday, July 28, 2008
Authors, Olives, Love and Loss in Granada
The blog isn't called Adventures in España for nothing. Buckle your seatbelt for the long and bumpy ride that was Granada...
...It all began Saturday, July 26, 2008. The date of the last post.
After writing that last quick note, I scampered down to the bus, destined for childless days in the warm sun of Granada. Everything was going fine, until 5 minutes into the bus ride, someone elected to take themselves to the washroom to have the biggest poop of their life. Who gets on a bus and immidiately goes to poop? Now, please don't think I am some kind of fecophiliac, the reason I know this was such doozie was because I was dying in my seat from the smell. Was my seat near the toilet? No! It was so bad I had to hide my face in my shirt for the better part of twenty minutes until the stench evaporated. Spanish people are very fond of public transport, but they are also a people fond of cured pork products, and I really think the two do not mix well.
After surviving the stink, I made it to my hostal with ease and entered into my first private room in a month! HOORAY! The room I had at camp was shared with all the female monitors, and as you may have guessed from previous entries, it was not always a happy, or hygenic place. When I arrived at the hostal, David, the desk guy, gave me a full tour of the city via a small map he provided me and sent me on my way. The room was small, (7 feet x 8 feet) but ALL MINE and it had a nice big fan in it. Before my afternoon nap, I headed out for lunch.
First gazpacho in Andalucia! Andalucia is the southernmost province of Spain, and the reason for my return here. It holds so many famous cities which are rife with history of the Moorish empire and the reconquisiton of the Catholics, agriculture (where most of the olives and much of the citrus comes from) and culture in general (the home of flamenco, and unfortunately bullfighting). These cities include, Granada, Seville, Cordoba, Malaga and Marbella. And, since it is so hot down here (check out a map to see how close it is to north Africa), it is the loins from whence arose the cold tomato soup that holds a special place in my heart - GAZPACHO!
To go along with my gazpacho, the waiter brought me the largest olives I have ever seen in my life. They were like the size of a ping pong ball but olive shaped, and the pits were the size of a regular olive. They were easily the best olives I have ever had in my life. I think there was 8 in the bowl, and by the time he brought me the gazpacho (the first course) at least 5 of them were gone. I was too embarassed to accept the request for more when he made it, as to him, these were likely just run of the mill olives, and not something to get excited about. This man just thought I really liked olives. And I do, but in this case, there was more to it.
After lunch, I returned to the hostal and fell asleep for the better part of five hours. I woke up with a throbbing headache, for which I could not figure out the pathology. It felt like one of those headaches you get when you sleep too much, but with only 3 hours sleep the night before and maybe 2 hours on the bus, which was scattered, I hadn't slept nearly enough for that. The room was not too hot, so it wasn't a hot room headache, and it wasn't a not enough sleep headache either.... my mother thinks it was from dehydration, she was probably right.
I got up and wandered the city for a while, figuring out my routes for Sunday to the Alhambra and buying my ticket. I returned to the hostel and went back to bed. A nice sleep and a good start for my big day.
Sunday, July 27, 2009.
I know what you are thinking "A poopy smelling bus and olives? What kind of adventure is this?!!" Just relax. I packed enough in between Sunday morning and Monday afternoon to last me the trip as far as excitement goes. Keep reading.
The Alhambra is the jewel of Granada, for the most part it is why people go to Granada and it is well worth it. If you are reading this right now, I urge you to stop what you are doing and think about how you can plan a trip for yourself to Granada because it is that stunning. It is a military fortress with palaces, summer homes for sultan's, gardens, the remains of the town which surrounded it, all atop a penninsula in the Sierra Nevada. It was orginally built by the Moors, making its Islamic decor spectactular, and was then taken over by the Catholics in 1492 when they reconquered Spain. When you by a ticket it is good for half the day and you are assigned a specific time to visit the Nasrid Palaces, the most ornate and incredible part of the entire facility.
I bought a morning ticket. It was a gamble, I am not particulairly good at getting up in the morning, but I thought if I had a ticket I would have to get up and would then get a full day of sightseeing in.
For the most part the plan worked, I got up more or less on time. I took a little bit longer than expected getting ready and headed out in the correct direction. Unfortunately, once I got to the square where one catches the bus up to the Alhambra, I assumed that since all the buses said "Alhambra Bus" on the side, they all went there. This may not have been the case. I got on a bus and off we went, unfortunately not in the direction of the Alhambra, but instead up to the Arabic quarter of the city, when we returned to the square, I got off that bus and got on another, however now I believe that bus was actually now going to the Alhambra and I paid two fares for nothing. I got to the Alhambra at 11 or so, and didn't have to be in line to see the Nasrid palaces until 1. The ticket people were so impressed with my timing and told me I could relax and stroll while they chastized those who were arriving only ten minutes before they had to be in the palace, those fools! I thought I needed to arrive at the Alhambra at 10, so when I showed up an hour later than my planned time and was lauded, I was indeed happy.
In my strolling I entered a gift shop where they were hand making wooden and bone items that were quite spectactular. I wanted to buy one of these items for my father, however, it was kind of large and I still had a lot of sightseeing to go. Unfortunately, it being a Sunday, the shop was closing at 1 (my palace time) and not reopening in the afternoon, I decided to go for in, and bought the item. (My father reads the blog and I don't want to give away the surprise, however the bulkyness of the item is essential to the story).
I saw the Charles V Palace, and the art museum inside, I saw the military parts of the Alhambra and made it in time for the Nasrid Palaces. They were stunning, I took so many photographs and simply couldn't believe it all. So much hand carving and tiling and water fountains. By the end of my tour I was elated just from the beauty of it all and I had lunch in the most beautiful ivy covered patio. Gazpacho again and a salad with smoked salmon, tomatoes, avocado, pineapple, mango, lettuce and olives. It sounds sort of gross but it was unbelievably good. I called Katrina from a pay phone and couldn't believe my luck to wind up in such a place as this...
I will finish the story tomorrow....
...It all began Saturday, July 26, 2008. The date of the last post.
After writing that last quick note, I scampered down to the bus, destined for childless days in the warm sun of Granada. Everything was going fine, until 5 minutes into the bus ride, someone elected to take themselves to the washroom to have the biggest poop of their life. Who gets on a bus and immidiately goes to poop? Now, please don't think I am some kind of fecophiliac, the reason I know this was such doozie was because I was dying in my seat from the smell. Was my seat near the toilet? No! It was so bad I had to hide my face in my shirt for the better part of twenty minutes until the stench evaporated. Spanish people are very fond of public transport, but they are also a people fond of cured pork products, and I really think the two do not mix well.
After surviving the stink, I made it to my hostal with ease and entered into my first private room in a month! HOORAY! The room I had at camp was shared with all the female monitors, and as you may have guessed from previous entries, it was not always a happy, or hygenic place. When I arrived at the hostal, David, the desk guy, gave me a full tour of the city via a small map he provided me and sent me on my way. The room was small, (7 feet x 8 feet) but ALL MINE and it had a nice big fan in it. Before my afternoon nap, I headed out for lunch.
First gazpacho in Andalucia! Andalucia is the southernmost province of Spain, and the reason for my return here. It holds so many famous cities which are rife with history of the Moorish empire and the reconquisiton of the Catholics, agriculture (where most of the olives and much of the citrus comes from) and culture in general (the home of flamenco, and unfortunately bullfighting). These cities include, Granada, Seville, Cordoba, Malaga and Marbella. And, since it is so hot down here (check out a map to see how close it is to north Africa), it is the loins from whence arose the cold tomato soup that holds a special place in my heart - GAZPACHO!
To go along with my gazpacho, the waiter brought me the largest olives I have ever seen in my life. They were like the size of a ping pong ball but olive shaped, and the pits were the size of a regular olive. They were easily the best olives I have ever had in my life. I think there was 8 in the bowl, and by the time he brought me the gazpacho (the first course) at least 5 of them were gone. I was too embarassed to accept the request for more when he made it, as to him, these were likely just run of the mill olives, and not something to get excited about. This man just thought I really liked olives. And I do, but in this case, there was more to it.
After lunch, I returned to the hostal and fell asleep for the better part of five hours. I woke up with a throbbing headache, for which I could not figure out the pathology. It felt like one of those headaches you get when you sleep too much, but with only 3 hours sleep the night before and maybe 2 hours on the bus, which was scattered, I hadn't slept nearly enough for that. The room was not too hot, so it wasn't a hot room headache, and it wasn't a not enough sleep headache either.... my mother thinks it was from dehydration, she was probably right.
I got up and wandered the city for a while, figuring out my routes for Sunday to the Alhambra and buying my ticket. I returned to the hostel and went back to bed. A nice sleep and a good start for my big day.
Sunday, July 27, 2009.
I know what you are thinking "A poopy smelling bus and olives? What kind of adventure is this?!!" Just relax. I packed enough in between Sunday morning and Monday afternoon to last me the trip as far as excitement goes. Keep reading.
The Alhambra is the jewel of Granada, for the most part it is why people go to Granada and it is well worth it. If you are reading this right now, I urge you to stop what you are doing and think about how you can plan a trip for yourself to Granada because it is that stunning. It is a military fortress with palaces, summer homes for sultan's, gardens, the remains of the town which surrounded it, all atop a penninsula in the Sierra Nevada. It was orginally built by the Moors, making its Islamic decor spectactular, and was then taken over by the Catholics in 1492 when they reconquered Spain. When you by a ticket it is good for half the day and you are assigned a specific time to visit the Nasrid Palaces, the most ornate and incredible part of the entire facility.
I bought a morning ticket. It was a gamble, I am not particulairly good at getting up in the morning, but I thought if I had a ticket I would have to get up and would then get a full day of sightseeing in.
For the most part the plan worked, I got up more or less on time. I took a little bit longer than expected getting ready and headed out in the correct direction. Unfortunately, once I got to the square where one catches the bus up to the Alhambra, I assumed that since all the buses said "Alhambra Bus" on the side, they all went there. This may not have been the case. I got on a bus and off we went, unfortunately not in the direction of the Alhambra, but instead up to the Arabic quarter of the city, when we returned to the square, I got off that bus and got on another, however now I believe that bus was actually now going to the Alhambra and I paid two fares for nothing. I got to the Alhambra at 11 or so, and didn't have to be in line to see the Nasrid palaces until 1. The ticket people were so impressed with my timing and told me I could relax and stroll while they chastized those who were arriving only ten minutes before they had to be in the palace, those fools! I thought I needed to arrive at the Alhambra at 10, so when I showed up an hour later than my planned time and was lauded, I was indeed happy.
In my strolling I entered a gift shop where they were hand making wooden and bone items that were quite spectactular. I wanted to buy one of these items for my father, however, it was kind of large and I still had a lot of sightseeing to go. Unfortunately, it being a Sunday, the shop was closing at 1 (my palace time) and not reopening in the afternoon, I decided to go for in, and bought the item. (My father reads the blog and I don't want to give away the surprise, however the bulkyness of the item is essential to the story).
I saw the Charles V Palace, and the art museum inside, I saw the military parts of the Alhambra and made it in time for the Nasrid Palaces. They were stunning, I took so many photographs and simply couldn't believe it all. So much hand carving and tiling and water fountains. By the end of my tour I was elated just from the beauty of it all and I had lunch in the most beautiful ivy covered patio. Gazpacho again and a salad with smoked salmon, tomatoes, avocado, pineapple, mango, lettuce and olives. It sounds sort of gross but it was unbelievably good. I called Katrina from a pay phone and couldn't believe my luck to wind up in such a place as this...
I will finish the story tomorrow....
Saturday, July 26, 2008
AHHHHH!!!! I'm FREE!
Hello Hello Hello! I think this is the largest I have ever been smiling on only 3 hours sleep! I AM FREE! I am currently sitting in an internet café in the bus station in Cartagena and I have 15 minutes until my bus to Granada. I said my goodbyes this morning and got an offer for a place to stay in Madrid on my last night with Inés, the director of the other camp on our floor, a wonderful woman. I am not sure if I shall take her up on the offer, because I have to be at the airport the next day at 9:45am... but I have a definite dinner date!
It took me 3 hours to pack all of my things into my bags last night, but because of careful packing and downsizing I have emptied out entirely my huge beaded purse (see the facebook photo from the park) and still have room in my miniature backpack (that attaches to my huge backpack). Except for the oddly shaped tube present for my mother, that I never did ship home, I am travelling quite comfortably. That is at least until I start shopping. At that point I am sure I will find some other things I don't mind parting with.... which leads me to:
Guess what I threw out this morning? Some of you will be excited! My Loyola Hawks Swimming t-shirt with the giant holes in the armpits. That's correct, I almost cried, except the concept of carrying less was just too much to pass up, plus I am so elated right now I think I could only cry tears of joy at this moment.
Okay, better catch the bus! Updates tomorrow or Monday from Granada!
K-travel
It took me 3 hours to pack all of my things into my bags last night, but because of careful packing and downsizing I have emptied out entirely my huge beaded purse (see the facebook photo from the park) and still have room in my miniature backpack (that attaches to my huge backpack). Except for the oddly shaped tube present for my mother, that I never did ship home, I am travelling quite comfortably. That is at least until I start shopping. At that point I am sure I will find some other things I don't mind parting with.... which leads me to:
Guess what I threw out this morning? Some of you will be excited! My Loyola Hawks Swimming t-shirt with the giant holes in the armpits. That's correct, I almost cried, except the concept of carrying less was just too much to pass up, plus I am so elated right now I think I could only cry tears of joy at this moment.
Okay, better catch the bus! Updates tomorrow or Monday from Granada!
K-travel
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Soooo close!
Hello all!
Well I am extremely excited because I am so close to being finished camp and beginning my adventure again. This Saturday, I will be taking a bus from Cartagena to Grenada to spend the weekend there and then through the whole province of Andalucia. Gazpacho, anyone?
Again, I have a variety of silly topics to tell you about:
'Puche'
This is the first last name of one of the dumbest campers I have ever encountered. I probably yell the word 'Puche' at least 100 times a day, because he is constantly doing something inane. The most recent awesome examples are:
1. Pointing to another camper and saying "I stupid"
2. Finding the Spanish ID card of a woman on the beach (not a bank card) and thinking he can go to the bank and withdraw her money with it, when we informed him he couldn't do that, he thought for a second then said okay, I will open an account AND THEN take all the money out. He then followed this statement up with "Soy muy inteligente" (I am very intelligent)
3. Playing the Game 'Tails'. Every child has a piece of string attached to them as a tail. There are 4 teams, each with their own colour of string. Each team pursues one other colour, and is thus pursued by one other colour (much like cycles). Puche was on the blue team, thus wearing a blue tail. He was supposed to steal purple. He stole pink. When informed this was the wrong team to pursue, he then tried to don the pink tail...
4. Wearing the plain white t-shirt he brought to camp specifically to tie dye, then trying to wash it on the day of, causing him to tie dye a wet t-shirt...
I have begun to assume his second last name is also Puche (meaning his parents are cousins)
"I'm in balls!"
This is what the boys scream if there are in their room changing and you attempt to open the door. It is a very messy translation of a Spanish expression for being naked, but we have come to understand its meaning, especially since one of the monitors caught Puche 'in balls' this morning. Yikes.
Exciting tales soon,
Kate
Well I am extremely excited because I am so close to being finished camp and beginning my adventure again. This Saturday, I will be taking a bus from Cartagena to Grenada to spend the weekend there and then through the whole province of Andalucia. Gazpacho, anyone?
Again, I have a variety of silly topics to tell you about:
'Puche'
This is the first last name of one of the dumbest campers I have ever encountered. I probably yell the word 'Puche' at least 100 times a day, because he is constantly doing something inane. The most recent awesome examples are:
1. Pointing to another camper and saying "I stupid"
2. Finding the Spanish ID card of a woman on the beach (not a bank card) and thinking he can go to the bank and withdraw her money with it, when we informed him he couldn't do that, he thought for a second then said okay, I will open an account AND THEN take all the money out. He then followed this statement up with "Soy muy inteligente" (I am very intelligent)
3. Playing the Game 'Tails'. Every child has a piece of string attached to them as a tail. There are 4 teams, each with their own colour of string. Each team pursues one other colour, and is thus pursued by one other colour (much like cycles). Puche was on the blue team, thus wearing a blue tail. He was supposed to steal purple. He stole pink. When informed this was the wrong team to pursue, he then tried to don the pink tail...
4. Wearing the plain white t-shirt he brought to camp specifically to tie dye, then trying to wash it on the day of, causing him to tie dye a wet t-shirt...
I have begun to assume his second last name is also Puche (meaning his parents are cousins)
"I'm in balls!"
This is what the boys scream if there are in their room changing and you attempt to open the door. It is a very messy translation of a Spanish expression for being naked, but we have come to understand its meaning, especially since one of the monitors caught Puche 'in balls' this morning. Yikes.
Exciting tales soon,
Kate
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
All Smiles
After a word from my father, I have decided not to complain so much on my blog. So I will be only be mentioning the good, ridiculous, and otherwise interesting and humourous things happening. I am sure you now understand that the camp is poorly run, by stupid people with unsanitary conditions. That can be a good summary. It was my choice to come and my choice to see it through, which I am. There is less than two weeks left until I get to return to adventures in Grenada, Arcos De la Frontera, Ronda, Seville and Cordoba.
There are good times ahead.
K-positive
There are good times ahead.
K-positive
Monday, July 14, 2008
Here Comes the Rain
Today it rained for the first time since I have arrived in Spain. It meant the children couldn't go in the swimming pool, but it was nice for something to break the heat. Luckily it ended in time for them to go to sailing school.
Camp Weekend off and New Campers: Saturday, July 12-Monday, July 14
I have been complaining a lot on these last few posts, so I want to open up with the positives of the weekend, before I move into the negatives.
On Saturday, the first group of kids with their constant complaining left and I took the afternoon to sleep and eat a donair, mmmmm. Later, we spent some time at the beach and then went clubbing and it was great to have a couple child-free meals.
Yesterday the new pack of kids arrived, and though their English is terrible, they do not have the attitude of the last group and are actually excited about the activities we have prepared!! They are a little more excitable however, which makes some things difficult, but there is also only 23 of them, which is a far more manageable number. We have started off very organized and strict with rules (thanks to Ali and myself) which helps immensley.
The final excellent item is that I have bought a mosquito net for my bed, and now I am sleeping and napping much easier. Unfortunately it is bright blue and has feathers on it, which makes it a bit ridiculous looking, but it works very effectively at keeping the breeze in and the bugs out. It is also kind of fun to feel like you are sleeping in a fort, and though it does not offer privacy, in a shared living accomodation, it gives you the sense of having your own room. Kind of.
Okay, the bad.... Well the bad right now is the director... I have discovered she is inept. The first week Ali and I assumed that the problems that were occuring were all the fault of the unnamed company we work for and that we should give her a chance to get her footing and follow her directions, even if we did not agree.
This is no longer the case.
We are into camp session 2. Session 2 is supposed to be a breeze, you have run all the activities once, you know the materials you need, you have made a better list of rules based on the behaviour of the last campers, and most crucially, you have a whole 24 hours at least to rest and prepare for the next group.
This weekend the director took us to the beach, we were all so excited that we could go to the Meditteranean instead of Mar Menor (which is just so salty). Unfortunately she couldn't find it. That's correct, take a look at a map of Mar Menor in Spain and you will see we are PAINFULLY close to the Meditteranean. You'd think that would be the kind of thing one would consult a map for, so after driving around for an hour, we just went to a busier and less nice beach on Mar Menor than the one we are close to.
Next, it turns out, she was hired for this job because... well that is the thing no one can figure out. She was a counsellor for this organization last summer for 4 weeks, and has no other experience with kids, she has no first aid what so ever, has no other camp experience and is not a teacher. This means she doesn't know how to control the children, so they have no respect for her, so whenever she does try to do anything, she gets really frustrated and starts yelling at us to control them, because "that is not [her] job". That wouldn't be such a problem if she did the other parts of her job.
Things like planning the excursions properly (all the sights in Cartagena we were supposed to see were closed and we went shopping during siesta on a Sunday). Writing the rules of the camp for the first day (she didn't do it the first camp, and when it was obvious she wasn't going to do it for the second camp, Ali and I did it).
My time is running out more later
kater
Camp Weekend off and New Campers: Saturday, July 12-Monday, July 14
I have been complaining a lot on these last few posts, so I want to open up with the positives of the weekend, before I move into the negatives.
On Saturday, the first group of kids with their constant complaining left and I took the afternoon to sleep and eat a donair, mmmmm. Later, we spent some time at the beach and then went clubbing and it was great to have a couple child-free meals.
Yesterday the new pack of kids arrived, and though their English is terrible, they do not have the attitude of the last group and are actually excited about the activities we have prepared!! They are a little more excitable however, which makes some things difficult, but there is also only 23 of them, which is a far more manageable number. We have started off very organized and strict with rules (thanks to Ali and myself) which helps immensley.
The final excellent item is that I have bought a mosquito net for my bed, and now I am sleeping and napping much easier. Unfortunately it is bright blue and has feathers on it, which makes it a bit ridiculous looking, but it works very effectively at keeping the breeze in and the bugs out. It is also kind of fun to feel like you are sleeping in a fort, and though it does not offer privacy, in a shared living accomodation, it gives you the sense of having your own room. Kind of.
Okay, the bad.... Well the bad right now is the director... I have discovered she is inept. The first week Ali and I assumed that the problems that were occuring were all the fault of the unnamed company we work for and that we should give her a chance to get her footing and follow her directions, even if we did not agree.
This is no longer the case.
We are into camp session 2. Session 2 is supposed to be a breeze, you have run all the activities once, you know the materials you need, you have made a better list of rules based on the behaviour of the last campers, and most crucially, you have a whole 24 hours at least to rest and prepare for the next group.
This weekend the director took us to the beach, we were all so excited that we could go to the Meditteranean instead of Mar Menor (which is just so salty). Unfortunately she couldn't find it. That's correct, take a look at a map of Mar Menor in Spain and you will see we are PAINFULLY close to the Meditteranean. You'd think that would be the kind of thing one would consult a map for, so after driving around for an hour, we just went to a busier and less nice beach on Mar Menor than the one we are close to.
Next, it turns out, she was hired for this job because... well that is the thing no one can figure out. She was a counsellor for this organization last summer for 4 weeks, and has no other experience with kids, she has no first aid what so ever, has no other camp experience and is not a teacher. This means she doesn't know how to control the children, so they have no respect for her, so whenever she does try to do anything, she gets really frustrated and starts yelling at us to control them, because "that is not [her] job". That wouldn't be such a problem if she did the other parts of her job.
Things like planning the excursions properly (all the sights in Cartagena we were supposed to see were closed and we went shopping during siesta on a Sunday). Writing the rules of the camp for the first day (she didn't do it the first camp, and when it was obvious she wasn't going to do it for the second camp, Ali and I did it).
My time is running out more later
kater
Friday, July 11, 2008
Estoy hasta de la polla!!!
Hello hello!
The title of this entry is how one says "I've had it up to here" in Spanish, except that unlike in English, it is a vulgar expression. It is not a literal translation, feel free to look up the word "polla". José taught me this expression, but failed to mention it's vulgarity, and I proceeded to say it in front of the children.... at which point the children were shocked and José was doubled over laughing. Later, he told the director of the camp that I had said it in front of the children, but luckily she just laughed and understood that it was José's idea of a joke. Somehow this lovely expression wasn't present in my university Spanish education, this is the reason one needs to travel, the things you just cannot learn in a classroom.
Okay, onto official business:
Week 2 of Camp July 8 - July 11, 2008.
Yes, I am cognizant that that isn't really a week, but it is going to be the entry for this week of camp. It is going to be a series of anecdotes and not so much a chronological series of events.
Cucarachas
In Spanish, cucarachas means cockroach. They are everywhere, well luckily, not many in our bedroom. The kitchen on the other hand...
...if you flick on the lights at night, suddenly they scurry from wherever they are on the floor under the freezer or cupboard. The kitchen staff has recently barred the counsellors from entering the kitchen at night and I believe it is just to hide this health and safety embarassment. Also, they scurry really fast and have extremely hard shells making them difficult to smoosh, if you are successful though, it is quite a feeling of satisfaction, though disgusting. They are just a primary example of Spanish food hygeine embarassments.
Mosques
Flies. Good god. Everywhere. At night, while eating, while sitting here typing this blog, while explaining things to the children. Some mosquitos, but mostly just standard house flies that land on you, in your eyes, on the part of your lower back between your shirt and pants, your legs, your ears, up your nose. Once again, instead of combating the problem, windows are screenless, hygeine is poor and they continue to annoy. I am going to try to find a mosquito net for my bed (like they have in Africa to prevent malaria) so I can sleep at night because I "estoy hasta de la polla" of these flies.
Camp Bitching and Bullshit
*Appologies to those of you with delicate sensetivies, but I am trying to make this blog feel like a conversation with me, and this is what I have been saying*
This is my new nickname for this series of campers, as most of the time they are either complaining about something (I know, this whole entry that is all I have been doing the same, so maybe it is my fault) or making up some crazy story, lie, or other ridiculous excuse. As I have mentioned to my parents, the child who is the absolute worst for this behaviour is the one Canadian child, who´s mother works for the unnamed organization I work for here. I am DEFINETLY going to be making a mention of this to my palls in the office, because her mother might be interested in the fact that her child made the camp experience far more difficult.
Acceptances
HOORAY HOORAY!!! I have received my final marks for my last two classes and my undergraduate degree is officially over and my acceptance into the University of Ottawa under the supervision of Dr. Frans Leenen is now complete. I will be heading there in September to do a master's in Cellular and Molecular Medicine in the Faculty of Medicine at the Ottawa Heart Institute. I will either be working on hypertension or on myocardial infarction (heart attack) and why some people recover after having one and others don't. Thank you Katrina, Sumantra and Mom for your help with my last two exams.
That's all for now, it is time for swimming with the kids. They leave tomorrow at noon and then there is a blissful 28 hours without children until the next group comes.
Talk to you soon,
K-fly (as in covered in flies, not as in cool)
The title of this entry is how one says "I've had it up to here" in Spanish, except that unlike in English, it is a vulgar expression. It is not a literal translation, feel free to look up the word "polla". José taught me this expression, but failed to mention it's vulgarity, and I proceeded to say it in front of the children.... at which point the children were shocked and José was doubled over laughing. Later, he told the director of the camp that I had said it in front of the children, but luckily she just laughed and understood that it was José's idea of a joke. Somehow this lovely expression wasn't present in my university Spanish education, this is the reason one needs to travel, the things you just cannot learn in a classroom.
Okay, onto official business:
Week 2 of Camp July 8 - July 11, 2008.
Yes, I am cognizant that that isn't really a week, but it is going to be the entry for this week of camp. It is going to be a series of anecdotes and not so much a chronological series of events.
Cucarachas
In Spanish, cucarachas means cockroach. They are everywhere, well luckily, not many in our bedroom. The kitchen on the other hand...
...if you flick on the lights at night, suddenly they scurry from wherever they are on the floor under the freezer or cupboard. The kitchen staff has recently barred the counsellors from entering the kitchen at night and I believe it is just to hide this health and safety embarassment. Also, they scurry really fast and have extremely hard shells making them difficult to smoosh, if you are successful though, it is quite a feeling of satisfaction, though disgusting. They are just a primary example of Spanish food hygeine embarassments.
Mosques
Flies. Good god. Everywhere. At night, while eating, while sitting here typing this blog, while explaining things to the children. Some mosquitos, but mostly just standard house flies that land on you, in your eyes, on the part of your lower back between your shirt and pants, your legs, your ears, up your nose. Once again, instead of combating the problem, windows are screenless, hygeine is poor and they continue to annoy. I am going to try to find a mosquito net for my bed (like they have in Africa to prevent malaria) so I can sleep at night because I "estoy hasta de la polla" of these flies.
Camp Bitching and Bullshit
*Appologies to those of you with delicate sensetivies, but I am trying to make this blog feel like a conversation with me, and this is what I have been saying*
This is my new nickname for this series of campers, as most of the time they are either complaining about something (I know, this whole entry that is all I have been doing the same, so maybe it is my fault) or making up some crazy story, lie, or other ridiculous excuse. As I have mentioned to my parents, the child who is the absolute worst for this behaviour is the one Canadian child, who´s mother works for the unnamed organization I work for here. I am DEFINETLY going to be making a mention of this to my palls in the office, because her mother might be interested in the fact that her child made the camp experience far more difficult.
Acceptances
HOORAY HOORAY!!! I have received my final marks for my last two classes and my undergraduate degree is officially over and my acceptance into the University of Ottawa under the supervision of Dr. Frans Leenen is now complete. I will be heading there in September to do a master's in Cellular and Molecular Medicine in the Faculty of Medicine at the Ottawa Heart Institute. I will either be working on hypertension or on myocardial infarction (heart attack) and why some people recover after having one and others don't. Thank you Katrina, Sumantra and Mom for your help with my last two exams.
That's all for now, it is time for swimming with the kids. They leave tomorrow at noon and then there is a blissful 28 hours without children until the next group comes.
Talk to you soon,
K-fly (as in covered in flies, not as in cool)
Tuesday, July 8, 2008
One Week of Camp is Over... but not soon enough
Yes, I am still alive and continuing my Spanish adventure, though just barely.
Camp Weeks 1 and some of 2: June 29 - August 8
I think that most reading this know, however I am sure some don´t, that in order to finance some of this trip, I elected to work for the same company I worked for two years ago, as a camp counsellor here in Spain. In the interest of not being sued for libel (though I assure you all my statements are true) I have chosen not to name this company, as I don´t have many glowing things to say about them.
My job is to be the arts and crafts workshop coordinator as well as, an English-speaking monitor to run games for the kids and generally ensure their well being. Sounds like not a bad deal, right? Not so much, it is an incredibly disorganized company that hires inexperienced people, does most things at the last minute and has a very small staff:camper ratio. I know what you are thinking, partially because some of you have already said it to me. "You fool ,if it is so bad, why the hell did you go back?", and my answer is,
"Well for a number of reasons:
1. I am an idiot
2. My last experience, thought difficult, never drove me to tears.
3. I really wanted to come back to Spain and didn´t have any money.
4. I thought that since I knew how it was bad, I could mentally prepared myself for it, and as well make some changes to the way I approached it."
So far it has been rough, though I am especially upset at this moment because the last two days have been even worse. The children are all from wealthy families and don't really listen to anything that is said. They are given their cell phones for half and hour everyday, so if there is anything they don't like about the camp, they tell their parents and their parents call the next day. This policy also vastly increases home sickness, because they are always being reminded of home, and what is happening there.
The thing that really makes this camp more difficult that the last (the two factors mentioned above were also present at my last camp) is that the staff is not as strong. The director is young and inexperienced and doens't command respect from the children or even all the staff, and one of the staff members is a princess-like bitch, who, though I have made efforts not to, I got into a fight with yesterday. I think we will be able to keep our distance from one another, but on top of how stressful and tiring it already is, a fight is not what is needed right now.
It is not all bad though, we are in a beautiful beach town, and go to the beach everday, there are hoards of English tourists here so there are English newspapers and magazines, along with stores that offer exciting amenities like Heinz ketchup (necessary because we eat french fries everyday). Also, though I detest one of the staff members, the rest I really like and will miss when camp ends. Especially José who is leaving this weekend, to return to his actual job outside of Madrid. I could write an entire entry about the joy of knowing this flamboyant spanish character, but I have no time right now, and that seems like it would be a little excessive.
Okay, I will update you again when I can and hopefully I wont complain so much
K-tired-and-sunburnt
P.S. Also good, except for losing my voice from yelling at the kids, I am not sick!!!
Camp Weeks 1 and some of 2: June 29 - August 8
I think that most reading this know, however I am sure some don´t, that in order to finance some of this trip, I elected to work for the same company I worked for two years ago, as a camp counsellor here in Spain. In the interest of not being sued for libel (though I assure you all my statements are true) I have chosen not to name this company, as I don´t have many glowing things to say about them.
My job is to be the arts and crafts workshop coordinator as well as, an English-speaking monitor to run games for the kids and generally ensure their well being. Sounds like not a bad deal, right? Not so much, it is an incredibly disorganized company that hires inexperienced people, does most things at the last minute and has a very small staff:camper ratio. I know what you are thinking, partially because some of you have already said it to me. "You fool ,if it is so bad, why the hell did you go back?", and my answer is,
"Well for a number of reasons:
1. I am an idiot
2. My last experience, thought difficult, never drove me to tears.
3. I really wanted to come back to Spain and didn´t have any money.
4. I thought that since I knew how it was bad, I could mentally prepared myself for it, and as well make some changes to the way I approached it."
So far it has been rough, though I am especially upset at this moment because the last two days have been even worse. The children are all from wealthy families and don't really listen to anything that is said. They are given their cell phones for half and hour everyday, so if there is anything they don't like about the camp, they tell their parents and their parents call the next day. This policy also vastly increases home sickness, because they are always being reminded of home, and what is happening there.
The thing that really makes this camp more difficult that the last (the two factors mentioned above were also present at my last camp) is that the staff is not as strong. The director is young and inexperienced and doens't command respect from the children or even all the staff, and one of the staff members is a princess-like bitch, who, though I have made efforts not to, I got into a fight with yesterday. I think we will be able to keep our distance from one another, but on top of how stressful and tiring it already is, a fight is not what is needed right now.
It is not all bad though, we are in a beautiful beach town, and go to the beach everday, there are hoards of English tourists here so there are English newspapers and magazines, along with stores that offer exciting amenities like Heinz ketchup (necessary because we eat french fries everyday). Also, though I detest one of the staff members, the rest I really like and will miss when camp ends. Especially José who is leaving this weekend, to return to his actual job outside of Madrid. I could write an entire entry about the joy of knowing this flamboyant spanish character, but I have no time right now, and that seems like it would be a little excessive.
Okay, I will update you again when I can and hopefully I wont complain so much
K-tired-and-sunburnt
P.S. Also good, except for losing my voice from yelling at the kids, I am not sick!!!
Saturday, June 28, 2008
High ho, high ho, It´s off to work I go!
This may be the last post for a while, as I don´t know the internet café availability in Los Narejos, where the camp is, on the coast. So savour my silky words while they are fresh.
So, I wrote last after I returned to Madrid and had lunch with Julian, on Friday June 27. That afternoon I spent an extremely annoying hour and a half looking for the mail boxes, etc. location I had found online to send my package to my mother. No dice, so I came back to my hostel and found a DHL, where they told me it would cost €72 to send it to my mom! What the crap!?!? It is not heavy or large at all, it is just long, so I said no and left. Maybe I will have to keep carting it around. I am going to check with UPS and FedEx to see if I can find something better. (cheaper)
Okay, so after that ridiculous errand, I had my first meeting with my director and the other staff of the camp. We are as follows, myself and Ali, the two Canadian counsellors, both from the U of Guelph. Andrea is one of the English teachers and is from Holland. She is probably one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my entire life. Tall, blond, high cheek bones, blue eyes, thin... and exceptionally modest. She is very funny and polite and I think the children will love her. She worked at a similar camp in Italy last year and has such funny stories from it:
Next, the Spanish contingent: Patricia, Mária and José. Patricia is our director, and I think is only maybe 21 or so. She is nervous right now, but she has a quiet confidence and I think she will be a good leader. Next, Mária, who will be my partner in crime for the arts and crafts activities. She is very, very funny and we are going to run an hour and a half arts and crafts session together everyday. We picked our favourite lessons from our two lesson plans and are going to have a lot of fun making paper maché piñatas, chocolate cake, tye dyed t-shirts, hemp necklaces and dream catchers. Finally, José is Ali´s partner in the dance/theatre/sports workshops. José is very, very funny and dramatic, his sense of humour reminds me of my other male Spanish friends, very cheeky. They have the same schedule as Mária and I, and the children will rotate between us day to day.
The camp schedule for this camp is a lot less work than at the last camp I worked at because the children have an hour of pool time every day and a hour or two of sailing as well. This more time just monitoring them and less time instructing and leading activities. Plus, they spend half the day doing English classes, so all the Canadian and Spanish counsellors are responsible to lead is our workshops (described above) and the before-bed activity. We are having a bit of a fight right now because, there is a concept at the company that runs the camps that having the children run around and scream before bed is good, because it tires them out. Unfortunately, in myself and Ali´s camp experience, a more relaxed activity to calm them down and send them to bed usually works better, as night time sports just get them revved up.... So, we´ll see how it goes... we have agreed to try both and see which works best, a scientific approach which sits well with me.
After all the planning, Ali and I returned to 'Las Tablas' the flamenco club in Madrid which I went to with my parents two years ago. It was incredible, once again, both the dance and the sangria. No Mom, Nacho is not still there, but another excellent male dancer is. After the show, we walked Ali home, and Julian and I went for a couple copas de vino at some cafés near by. He walked me back to my hostel, where I managed to get to bed without bothering anyone too much.
This morning Saturday, June 28, 2008, Ali and I grabbed a quick breakfast before heading over for more planning sessions. We were there for about two and a half hours when we all went for a very fun, very typically Spanish lunch. Even just in the last 24 hours, the team has begun to come together very well. After that I passed out in my room for about 5 hours, then had a Shwarma and came here to write this. I had better jet now though, we have to leave the hostel at 6:30 to catch the 8am bus. We get the kids tomorrow night between 5-7 and are just going to eat dinner and watch the big football game, I am hoping Spain wins, because it would be fun... but I am not looking forward to crazy excited children who don´t want to sleep....
So I suppose I´ll be happy and sad either way,
K-camp-craft-girl
So, I wrote last after I returned to Madrid and had lunch with Julian, on Friday June 27. That afternoon I spent an extremely annoying hour and a half looking for the mail boxes, etc. location I had found online to send my package to my mother. No dice, so I came back to my hostel and found a DHL, where they told me it would cost €72 to send it to my mom! What the crap!?!? It is not heavy or large at all, it is just long, so I said no and left. Maybe I will have to keep carting it around. I am going to check with UPS and FedEx to see if I can find something better. (cheaper)
Okay, so after that ridiculous errand, I had my first meeting with my director and the other staff of the camp. We are as follows, myself and Ali, the two Canadian counsellors, both from the U of Guelph. Andrea is one of the English teachers and is from Holland. She is probably one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen in my entire life. Tall, blond, high cheek bones, blue eyes, thin... and exceptionally modest. She is very funny and polite and I think the children will love her. She worked at a similar camp in Italy last year and has such funny stories from it:
The other English teahcer is Gillian, a German born, American citizen, who grew up in Germany, but went to university in Nashville. She is very funny, and loves potatoes with hot sauce.
"I told the children to sit on the ground to start their English lesson and this one girl looks at me and says ´These are Prada jeans, I am not sitting on the ground´ So I said 'Fine, you can stand.' " -Andrea
Next, the Spanish contingent: Patricia, Mária and José. Patricia is our director, and I think is only maybe 21 or so. She is nervous right now, but she has a quiet confidence and I think she will be a good leader. Next, Mária, who will be my partner in crime for the arts and crafts activities. She is very, very funny and we are going to run an hour and a half arts and crafts session together everyday. We picked our favourite lessons from our two lesson plans and are going to have a lot of fun making paper maché piñatas, chocolate cake, tye dyed t-shirts, hemp necklaces and dream catchers. Finally, José is Ali´s partner in the dance/theatre/sports workshops. José is very, very funny and dramatic, his sense of humour reminds me of my other male Spanish friends, very cheeky. They have the same schedule as Mária and I, and the children will rotate between us day to day.
The camp schedule for this camp is a lot less work than at the last camp I worked at because the children have an hour of pool time every day and a hour or two of sailing as well. This more time just monitoring them and less time instructing and leading activities. Plus, they spend half the day doing English classes, so all the Canadian and Spanish counsellors are responsible to lead is our workshops (described above) and the before-bed activity. We are having a bit of a fight right now because, there is a concept at the company that runs the camps that having the children run around and scream before bed is good, because it tires them out. Unfortunately, in myself and Ali´s camp experience, a more relaxed activity to calm them down and send them to bed usually works better, as night time sports just get them revved up.... So, we´ll see how it goes... we have agreed to try both and see which works best, a scientific approach which sits well with me.
After all the planning, Ali and I returned to 'Las Tablas' the flamenco club in Madrid which I went to with my parents two years ago. It was incredible, once again, both the dance and the sangria. No Mom, Nacho is not still there, but another excellent male dancer is. After the show, we walked Ali home, and Julian and I went for a couple copas de vino at some cafés near by. He walked me back to my hostel, where I managed to get to bed without bothering anyone too much.
This morning Saturday, June 28, 2008, Ali and I grabbed a quick breakfast before heading over for more planning sessions. We were there for about two and a half hours when we all went for a very fun, very typically Spanish lunch. Even just in the last 24 hours, the team has begun to come together very well. After that I passed out in my room for about 5 hours, then had a Shwarma and came here to write this. I had better jet now though, we have to leave the hostel at 6:30 to catch the 8am bus. We get the kids tomorrow night between 5-7 and are just going to eat dinner and watch the big football game, I am hoping Spain wins, because it would be fun... but I am not looking forward to crazy excited children who don´t want to sleep....
So I suppose I´ll be happy and sad either way,
K-camp-craft-girl
Friday, June 27, 2008
Back in Madrid
Hello hello!
I only have 11 minutes, because I spent my most of my internet time looking for the closest UPS location to mail my mother a rather cumersome gift I bought her and no longer want to lug around.
Day 7: Thursday, June 26, 2008 - afternoon.
Walked up to the Monastery, got there about 4:40, waited for twenty minutes until the guided tour started. My Spanish is really coming along, the entire tour was in Spanish and I understood most of it. Fascinating building, built on top of a small mountain, in some places inside, there are rocks jutting out of the walls where they were just built up around it. Apparently the building was used as a prison during the Spanish civil war, so there are places where the walls have been carved into or damaged.
After the monastery, I walked the 4km from the monastery, then through the town of el puig, through the industrial area and finally to the beach! My first time in the Meditteranean, it was warm like bath water. Unfortunately there was also a whole lot of seaweed floaties and a few plastic bags so I only went in up to my waist, then I just walked along the beach with my feet in the water. Lovely! I discovered the was a bus, so I took that back to my hotel, showered, and watch the football with very excited locals. Spain beat Russia and advanced to the final in the EuroCup against Germany. The match is this Sunday and if Spain wins people are gonna freak out.
I caught my train this morning in Valencia at 6:50 and made it for lunch with Julian. I also met up with Ali and tonight I start work.
I will write again soon,
K-you-think-up-something-clever
I only have 11 minutes, because I spent my most of my internet time looking for the closest UPS location to mail my mother a rather cumersome gift I bought her and no longer want to lug around.
Day 7: Thursday, June 26, 2008 - afternoon.
Walked up to the Monastery, got there about 4:40, waited for twenty minutes until the guided tour started. My Spanish is really coming along, the entire tour was in Spanish and I understood most of it. Fascinating building, built on top of a small mountain, in some places inside, there are rocks jutting out of the walls where they were just built up around it. Apparently the building was used as a prison during the Spanish civil war, so there are places where the walls have been carved into or damaged.
After the monastery, I walked the 4km from the monastery, then through the town of el puig, through the industrial area and finally to the beach! My first time in the Meditteranean, it was warm like bath water. Unfortunately there was also a whole lot of seaweed floaties and a few plastic bags so I only went in up to my waist, then I just walked along the beach with my feet in the water. Lovely! I discovered the was a bus, so I took that back to my hotel, showered, and watch the football with very excited locals. Spain beat Russia and advanced to the final in the EuroCup against Germany. The match is this Sunday and if Spain wins people are gonna freak out.
I caught my train this morning in Valencia at 6:50 and made it for lunch with Julian. I also met up with Ali and tonight I start work.
I will write again soon,
K-you-think-up-something-clever
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Voy a la Playa: El Puig
Day 7: Thursday, June 26, 2008.
It is beach day at last! I made the trek from downtown Valencia, up to El Puig, a small beach suburb, north of the city on the coast. Though I made it to the metro with no problems, my notion that there would be available taxis once I got here was ill-conceived. After waiting for about 20 minutes to see if one might come by, I called three taxi companies in Valencia that I knew the number of. Two said it was too far out of the city, and one said someone was coming in 15 minutes. 40 minutes later, I called my hotel to see if they could help me, and alas, they gave me the number for the in-town taxi service. 5 minutes later, someone in a sedan arrived at the subway station in an unmarked sedan and honked and pointed at me. Apparently this was the taxi. It seemed a little sketch, but it was about a million degrees and I had called a taxi... I got into this possibly unlicensed taxi and he gave me his card, apparently this is the sole taxi in this little town. He dropped me off at my hotel safely and was prompt, so all in all, excellent service, but maybe he could get a sign?
I have just had lunch and I am going to go see the monastery then go lie on the beach for several hours. I´ll let you know how that goes later, and post that photo of St.Vincent´s arm in its little glass box (that is actually the reliquary, the arm is the relic). Unfortunately I opted not to pack my giant beach hat, so I´ll have to figure out something else.
Chau
K-bonita (say it out loud, it sounds like "que bonita" translation = "how beautiful", nice)
It is beach day at last! I made the trek from downtown Valencia, up to El Puig, a small beach suburb, north of the city on the coast. Though I made it to the metro with no problems, my notion that there would be available taxis once I got here was ill-conceived. After waiting for about 20 minutes to see if one might come by, I called three taxi companies in Valencia that I knew the number of. Two said it was too far out of the city, and one said someone was coming in 15 minutes. 40 minutes later, I called my hotel to see if they could help me, and alas, they gave me the number for the in-town taxi service. 5 minutes later, someone in a sedan arrived at the subway station in an unmarked sedan and honked and pointed at me. Apparently this was the taxi. It seemed a little sketch, but it was about a million degrees and I had called a taxi... I got into this possibly unlicensed taxi and he gave me his card, apparently this is the sole taxi in this little town. He dropped me off at my hotel safely and was prompt, so all in all, excellent service, but maybe he could get a sign?
I have just had lunch and I am going to go see the monastery then go lie on the beach for several hours. I´ll let you know how that goes later, and post that photo of St.Vincent´s arm in its little glass box (that is actually the reliquary, the arm is the relic). Unfortunately I opted not to pack my giant beach hat, so I´ll have to figure out something else.
Chau
K-bonita (say it out loud, it sounds like "que bonita" translation = "how beautiful", nice)
Wednesday, June 25, 2008
Valencia to the Max
As the internet is free here, and I like to chill out at the end of the day before dinner, I am here to give you an update:
Day 6: Wednesday, June 25, 2008.
Well, I didn´t exactly hit the morning with a bang like I was hoping, but it mattered not, as I managed to pack in one heck of a day! I woke up at 10:45, then scurried into the kitchen at the hostel to get the last of what was available for breakfast. After toast and cereal, I got dressed and headed out for my day.
First stop - the market. Apparently, the Valencia market has been the largest of its kind in Europe since the 30´s when it was built. I wandered around and had memories of the markets in Barcelona we visited two years ago. Every animal part imaginable on display, and sometimes, disturbingly posed. Though tempting, I passed up the oportunity to buy these facinating meat products and instead got a huge container of figs. (Which I plan to eat while watching a DVD later) Quick coffee and fresh orange juice (Valencia, remember?) and off I go again.
There used to be a river surrounding Valencia, but in 1957 it flooded and Valencia was trapped in 2m of water. There were many deaths, and it was considered a diaster, so, the city elected to divert the river, and dry the river bed. It has since been converted into a park with bicycle paths and gardens. Thinking about Chand´s words yesterday, I walked from the market through the park and to the art museum.
At the Museo De Bellas Artes, lots and lots and lots of religious paintings, I know it is Spain, but this museum was like 75% Christian paintings and 25% other stuff. Some very interesting pieces. Also, I got yelled at by a security guard, but I am not sure for what. I think because I was carrying an empty water bottle. I am not sure if she thought I was going to damage the paintings with my bottle of air, but I put it in my bag any how.
I took a stroll through the royal gardens and was almost approached by another weirdo, but I said "No hablo" and ran away. I am learning as I go, Spain (and apparently France too) is swarming with North African men between the ages of 18ish-40ish who are not really gainfully employed, and are interested in harassing tourists for money, or companisonship, etc. During the day they are in parks, and at night, many of them sell do-dads. I hate to say it, but I am coming to understand why European countries are having such immigration issues, as there isn´t exactly a smooth integration into society. I am not sure why. Thoughts?
After escaping the park, and learning to stay in areas where there are Spaniards and other tourists, I headed to El Ciudad Des Artes y Ciencoas, which is the Valencia Science Centre, Art Museum, Aquarium and archetectural marvel all in one. I only did the Science Centre part. I was incredibly impressed by the architecture and not much else. Not all of the exhibits were translated, and though I love science, the dumming down of science into little displays does not interest me. Wooo magnets! As well, stuff like that is generally more fun if you are with people. I did get to see a nobel prize for medicine, which was pretty cool.
I hopped in a cab, and got to the Santa Iglesia Catedral de Valencia, right at 6:30pm, when it has free entry. I actually saw my first reliquary in the flesh. lol. St. Vincent´s arm, pretty gross. Also I saw some bones, though I am not entirely sure to whom they belong. Next I walked up the 207 very steep stairs of El Miguelete (the bell tower of the cathedral) and almost had a small episode of angina pectoris at the top. The view was worth it, and the thought that now I could have a little more tapas once I came down. Side note, the khaki capris that didn´t fit when I left, fit once again - so I will continue to take the stairs.
When I descended from the tower, I purchased my fake wedding ring to wear while I am out and about, though I need to go to a dollar store to get the engagement ring to go with it. (What good is a farce if it isn´t convincing?) I will look for something pointy so that I can use it as Jay suggests, if need be. Why didn´t I bring my bear spray to Spain with me?
Then I came back, bathed, did some laundry (notably my horrenously stinky black capris - the designated travelling pants), and wrote this blog. Now to get a donair, pop in a DVD, and eat those figs!
Talk to you soon fralkers! and falkers! (family)
K-block-tica-toc
Day 6: Wednesday, June 25, 2008.
Well, I didn´t exactly hit the morning with a bang like I was hoping, but it mattered not, as I managed to pack in one heck of a day! I woke up at 10:45, then scurried into the kitchen at the hostel to get the last of what was available for breakfast. After toast and cereal, I got dressed and headed out for my day.
First stop - the market. Apparently, the Valencia market has been the largest of its kind in Europe since the 30´s when it was built. I wandered around and had memories of the markets in Barcelona we visited two years ago. Every animal part imaginable on display, and sometimes, disturbingly posed. Though tempting, I passed up the oportunity to buy these facinating meat products and instead got a huge container of figs. (Which I plan to eat while watching a DVD later) Quick coffee and fresh orange juice (Valencia, remember?) and off I go again.
There used to be a river surrounding Valencia, but in 1957 it flooded and Valencia was trapped in 2m of water. There were many deaths, and it was considered a diaster, so, the city elected to divert the river, and dry the river bed. It has since been converted into a park with bicycle paths and gardens. Thinking about Chand´s words yesterday, I walked from the market through the park and to the art museum.
At the Museo De Bellas Artes, lots and lots and lots of religious paintings, I know it is Spain, but this museum was like 75% Christian paintings and 25% other stuff. Some very interesting pieces. Also, I got yelled at by a security guard, but I am not sure for what. I think because I was carrying an empty water bottle. I am not sure if she thought I was going to damage the paintings with my bottle of air, but I put it in my bag any how.
I took a stroll through the royal gardens and was almost approached by another weirdo, but I said "No hablo" and ran away. I am learning as I go, Spain (and apparently France too) is swarming with North African men between the ages of 18ish-40ish who are not really gainfully employed, and are interested in harassing tourists for money, or companisonship, etc. During the day they are in parks, and at night, many of them sell do-dads. I hate to say it, but I am coming to understand why European countries are having such immigration issues, as there isn´t exactly a smooth integration into society. I am not sure why. Thoughts?
After escaping the park, and learning to stay in areas where there are Spaniards and other tourists, I headed to El Ciudad Des Artes y Ciencoas, which is the Valencia Science Centre, Art Museum, Aquarium and archetectural marvel all in one. I only did the Science Centre part. I was incredibly impressed by the architecture and not much else. Not all of the exhibits were translated, and though I love science, the dumming down of science into little displays does not interest me. Wooo magnets! As well, stuff like that is generally more fun if you are with people. I did get to see a nobel prize for medicine, which was pretty cool.
I hopped in a cab, and got to the Santa Iglesia Catedral de Valencia, right at 6:30pm, when it has free entry. I actually saw my first reliquary in the flesh. lol. St. Vincent´s arm, pretty gross. Also I saw some bones, though I am not entirely sure to whom they belong. Next I walked up the 207 very steep stairs of El Miguelete (the bell tower of the cathedral) and almost had a small episode of angina pectoris at the top. The view was worth it, and the thought that now I could have a little more tapas once I came down. Side note, the khaki capris that didn´t fit when I left, fit once again - so I will continue to take the stairs.
When I descended from the tower, I purchased my fake wedding ring to wear while I am out and about, though I need to go to a dollar store to get the engagement ring to go with it. (What good is a farce if it isn´t convincing?) I will look for something pointy so that I can use it as Jay suggests, if need be. Why didn´t I bring my bear spray to Spain with me?
Then I came back, bathed, did some laundry (notably my horrenously stinky black capris - the designated travelling pants), and wrote this blog. Now to get a donair, pop in a DVD, and eat those figs!
Talk to you soon fralkers! and falkers! (family)
K-block-tica-toc
Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Photos
For those of you who don´t have facebook, or who simply aren´t blessed enough to be on my friends list, you can click on the links below to see the photos that go with my tall tales.
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=123547&l=5c871&id=827495345
Also, interestingly, I spoke with Jay this evening and he suggested that if the wedding ring didn´t work to ward off the men, if it is large, at least I could hit them with it. What a guy.
K-to-the-t-to-the-e
p.s. my ears are itchy, and I am making that annoying sound I make, just thought you should know
http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=123547&l=5c871&id=827495345
Also, interestingly, I spoke with Jay this evening and he suggested that if the wedding ring didn´t work to ward off the men, if it is large, at least I could hit them with it. What a guy.
K-to-the-t-to-the-e
p.s. my ears are itchy, and I am making that annoying sound I make, just thought you should know
More Strange Men and Cuenca
Hello all with nothing better to do!
It is I, your fearless adventurer! Currently writing you from my lovely hostel in Valencia. Let us waste no time and begin where we left off.
Day 3: Ended with me returning to my hostel and sleeping maybe one hour the entire night. My anxiety has been a little piqued since I arrived, probably just from being here on my own, the strange man in the park incident didn´t do much to assist that either. After my lack of sleep I got up and began the very, very sweaty:
Day 4: Monday, June 23, 2008.
Off to Cuenca! Holy crap and a half. I packed up my things and headed off to the bus station. I elected to walk about a kilometer to the metro station "Principio Pio" because it was on the line that the bus station was on (supposedly) and walking seemed easier than changing lines half-way along. So, off I go, and I find the station okay, get on the correct subway, and after about 13 stops arrive at the metro station, up the stairs and into the BLAZING heat of the street. I see a map and a sign that indicate that the bus station is just on the other side of the round-about. I walk over, but alas, I do not see an entrace, so I walk around the side, then keep walking, then some more, then.... well it had been 15 minutes and I had now made it entirely around this HUGE building. (Think about it, it took me 15 minutes to walk around it) I am now sweaty and smelly and pissed off, I see some girls also carrying luggage and I elect to ask them if they know where the station is. They tell me they have just been informed that the station has closed.
AWESOME.
We exchange names (I don´t remember them) and they tell me that they are Turkish girls travelling to Salamanca for a Spanish course. We find out where the next closest station is and get back into the Metro. (travelling in subways with luggage is officially my least favourite part of the trip). Luckily, it is only two stops away on the same line we are on. We get off, find the station and all is well. I reassure the girls, who speak better Spanish than me, that I will be just fine on my own and that we can now part ways. I buy my ticket and get to sit for a blissful two hours out of the heat, in the station. I proceed to drink 2L of water, which turns out not to be such a hot idea for the bus trip.
On the bus, I meet another Kate, this one is from Indiana and has been living in Chuenca for 6.5 years with her husband, who she met in Spain while hiking. How Macedonian am I? The first thing I thought when she told me this was "Your family must have been crushed", I did not say this, however, and within the conversation she informed me that she travels back there every few months.
Successful arrival in Cuenca, and because of my harrowing journey in the morning, I elected to take a taxi from the bus station to my hostel. A whopping €8, but it is well worth it. I arrive at El Posado De San José, and can´t believe how beautiful it is. Seriously, just wonderful. There will be photos on facebook soon, so you can see for yourself. I drop my stuff and almost run to the Cathedral with is closing in less than one hour and wont be open in time tomorrow. Again, stunning, and my first Spanish encounter with reliquaries (sp?): for those of you who don´t know, because I didn´t, these are the body parts of Saints. Maybe some blood, or a finger, or a whole hand or leg. Apparently they are good luck (Catholics are not supposed to be superstitious...) though Michael informs me that when they were popular they were just a cash grab (I think that is as true today - to bring tourists). Mercifully, you cannot actually see the items, unless it is just a vial of fluid.
After seeing the Cathedral and the massive gorges of Cuenca, which I think are GORGEOUS (get it? lol) I went and took a much needed shower and had dinner. After a lot of fried food and ham, I went to bed to sleep for a blissful 12 hours.
Day 5: (Today) Tuesday June, 24, 2008.
I decided to sleep in a little, then go down for my buffet breakfast. Mmmmm, and I encounter even more stunning views of the gorges from the restaurant and go to pack up my stuff.
I did not leave ample time though and get to the train station to watch my train pulling away. Poop!
I go to a café for a couple hours and board the next train, which of course, is late by 15 minutes. (Because my original train was right on-time). I get on board and am enjoying myself and the view, when about an hour into the trip an Indian boy approaches me and asks me if I would like some water, apparently this is how you break the ice in Spain. He informs me that his name is Chand (which means "moon") and that he lives in Barcelona, where he is travelling to with his cousins, after a visit to his uncle´s house in Cuenca. After this, Chand is by my side until the metro stop in Valencia.
Chand is very nice, and very eager to learn English. Our conversation is a little awkward as there is a language barrier and he is a strange boy on a train. (I say boy, but he is 21, he is a boy to me.) Possibly because he is younger, or because he is with his counsins, I am no where near creeped out like I was with random park man. We talk about Valencia and travelling and language, and within the conversation there are some odd moments:
1. A point where he tells me that I am beautiful, friendly and very intelligent, but that I am kinda fat and maybe I should go for walks or to the gym. I am not entirely sure if that is what he meant to say, so I don´t take offence, or really pay it any mind. I felt like saying, "yeah I know, but what business is it of yours?"
2. Another point where I mention to him about Spanish children wearing too much Axe, where he branishes his Axe from his bag and proceeds to spray his armits, and then mine. Then taking out his cologne and spraying the both of us, yet again. Again, I could be offended, but truth be told, I probably did stink.
At the end of our train ride he insists on buying me a lemon fanta at a café and his cousins tell me about their love for Cricket. I show them pictures from home and they are impressed that I have an indian friend, and Chand tells me that he thinks Jason is very beautiful.
We get on the subway, then part ways and I arrive here at my hostel in Valencia. It is wonderful, has this computer I can use for free, a kitchen, a tv with DVDs and huge rooms.
Photos later, now I am off to eat dinner.
K-Tackla
It is I, your fearless adventurer! Currently writing you from my lovely hostel in Valencia. Let us waste no time and begin where we left off.
Day 3: Ended with me returning to my hostel and sleeping maybe one hour the entire night. My anxiety has been a little piqued since I arrived, probably just from being here on my own, the strange man in the park incident didn´t do much to assist that either. After my lack of sleep I got up and began the very, very sweaty:
Day 4: Monday, June 23, 2008.
Off to Cuenca! Holy crap and a half. I packed up my things and headed off to the bus station. I elected to walk about a kilometer to the metro station "Principio Pio" because it was on the line that the bus station was on (supposedly) and walking seemed easier than changing lines half-way along. So, off I go, and I find the station okay, get on the correct subway, and after about 13 stops arrive at the metro station, up the stairs and into the BLAZING heat of the street. I see a map and a sign that indicate that the bus station is just on the other side of the round-about. I walk over, but alas, I do not see an entrace, so I walk around the side, then keep walking, then some more, then.... well it had been 15 minutes and I had now made it entirely around this HUGE building. (Think about it, it took me 15 minutes to walk around it) I am now sweaty and smelly and pissed off, I see some girls also carrying luggage and I elect to ask them if they know where the station is. They tell me they have just been informed that the station has closed.
AWESOME.
We exchange names (I don´t remember them) and they tell me that they are Turkish girls travelling to Salamanca for a Spanish course. We find out where the next closest station is and get back into the Metro. (travelling in subways with luggage is officially my least favourite part of the trip). Luckily, it is only two stops away on the same line we are on. We get off, find the station and all is well. I reassure the girls, who speak better Spanish than me, that I will be just fine on my own and that we can now part ways. I buy my ticket and get to sit for a blissful two hours out of the heat, in the station. I proceed to drink 2L of water, which turns out not to be such a hot idea for the bus trip.
On the bus, I meet another Kate, this one is from Indiana and has been living in Chuenca for 6.5 years with her husband, who she met in Spain while hiking. How Macedonian am I? The first thing I thought when she told me this was "Your family must have been crushed", I did not say this, however, and within the conversation she informed me that she travels back there every few months.
Successful arrival in Cuenca, and because of my harrowing journey in the morning, I elected to take a taxi from the bus station to my hostel. A whopping €8, but it is well worth it. I arrive at El Posado De San José, and can´t believe how beautiful it is. Seriously, just wonderful. There will be photos on facebook soon, so you can see for yourself. I drop my stuff and almost run to the Cathedral with is closing in less than one hour and wont be open in time tomorrow. Again, stunning, and my first Spanish encounter with reliquaries (sp?): for those of you who don´t know, because I didn´t, these are the body parts of Saints. Maybe some blood, or a finger, or a whole hand or leg. Apparently they are good luck (Catholics are not supposed to be superstitious...) though Michael informs me that when they were popular they were just a cash grab (I think that is as true today - to bring tourists). Mercifully, you cannot actually see the items, unless it is just a vial of fluid.
After seeing the Cathedral and the massive gorges of Cuenca, which I think are GORGEOUS (get it? lol) I went and took a much needed shower and had dinner. After a lot of fried food and ham, I went to bed to sleep for a blissful 12 hours.
Day 5: (Today) Tuesday June, 24, 2008.
I decided to sleep in a little, then go down for my buffet breakfast. Mmmmm, and I encounter even more stunning views of the gorges from the restaurant and go to pack up my stuff.
I did not leave ample time though and get to the train station to watch my train pulling away. Poop!
I go to a café for a couple hours and board the next train, which of course, is late by 15 minutes. (Because my original train was right on-time). I get on board and am enjoying myself and the view, when about an hour into the trip an Indian boy approaches me and asks me if I would like some water, apparently this is how you break the ice in Spain. He informs me that his name is Chand (which means "moon") and that he lives in Barcelona, where he is travelling to with his cousins, after a visit to his uncle´s house in Cuenca. After this, Chand is by my side until the metro stop in Valencia.
Chand is very nice, and very eager to learn English. Our conversation is a little awkward as there is a language barrier and he is a strange boy on a train. (I say boy, but he is 21, he is a boy to me.) Possibly because he is younger, or because he is with his counsins, I am no where near creeped out like I was with random park man. We talk about Valencia and travelling and language, and within the conversation there are some odd moments:
1. A point where he tells me that I am beautiful, friendly and very intelligent, but that I am kinda fat and maybe I should go for walks or to the gym. I am not entirely sure if that is what he meant to say, so I don´t take offence, or really pay it any mind. I felt like saying, "yeah I know, but what business is it of yours?"
2. Another point where I mention to him about Spanish children wearing too much Axe, where he branishes his Axe from his bag and proceeds to spray his armits, and then mine. Then taking out his cologne and spraying the both of us, yet again. Again, I could be offended, but truth be told, I probably did stink.
At the end of our train ride he insists on buying me a lemon fanta at a café and his cousins tell me about their love for Cricket. I show them pictures from home and they are impressed that I have an indian friend, and Chand tells me that he thinks Jason is very beautiful.
We get on the subway, then part ways and I arrive here at my hostel in Valencia. It is wonderful, has this computer I can use for free, a kitchen, a tv with DVDs and huge rooms.
Photos later, now I am off to eat dinner.
K-Tackla
Sunday, June 22, 2008
Real Friends!
Day 3: Sunday June 22, 2008.
I have been sleeping a whole heck of a lot. Way too much actually. Today instead of going to El Rastro (the huge Sunday market) I slept until 2pm. I elected to then go to El Parque Del Buen Retiro to check it out. This is where the "wedding band" post occured. I am actually kind of pissed now that the relief has worn off, because I didn´t get to see anywhere near as much of the park as I had wanted because I was too busy trying to ditch that guy. And once I did ditch him I didn´t want to re-enter the park, lest I should run into him again.
So I went back to my hostel and bathed and translated my cell phone instruction manual before heading out for tapas. At El Tigre, the tapas bar I tried to go to yesterday but was too full I met some American and Australian friends and proceeded to drink way too much sangria. We went to another bar to watch the soccer, where Spain won and entered the semi-finals. When we seperated and I walked home, (well, here) Gran Via was like Yonge Street when the leafs get into, or win anything in the playoffs, pretty exciting.
Tomorrow, Cuenca! Adios Madrid - at least for a few days.
K-Rock
I have been sleeping a whole heck of a lot. Way too much actually. Today instead of going to El Rastro (the huge Sunday market) I slept until 2pm. I elected to then go to El Parque Del Buen Retiro to check it out. This is where the "wedding band" post occured. I am actually kind of pissed now that the relief has worn off, because I didn´t get to see anywhere near as much of the park as I had wanted because I was too busy trying to ditch that guy. And once I did ditch him I didn´t want to re-enter the park, lest I should run into him again.
So I went back to my hostel and bathed and translated my cell phone instruction manual before heading out for tapas. At El Tigre, the tapas bar I tried to go to yesterday but was too full I met some American and Australian friends and proceeded to drink way too much sangria. We went to another bar to watch the soccer, where Spain won and entered the semi-finals. When we seperated and I walked home, (well, here) Gran Via was like Yonge Street when the leafs get into, or win anything in the playoffs, pretty exciting.
Tomorrow, Cuenca! Adios Madrid - at least for a few days.
K-Rock
Time to Buy a Wedding Band
Don´t Freak Out - this has nothing to do with Jay, this afternoon I encountered one of my ´special friends´. I have a habit of encouraging strangers to talk to me when I am alone, I don´t know why or how, I just know that it happens and especially when I am far from home, it is not a good thing. I went to Parque Del Buen Retiro (the central park in Madrid) and after only being in the park maybe ten minutes a man asked me to take his photo, I took it and then couldn´t convince the man to leave me alone for the rest of my walk. I am back now and he did not rob me, molest me or drug me. He did try repeatedly to get me to go to a bar with him and to tell him where I was staying, I obviously did neither. I am thinking maybe a big gaudi wedding band would help stave off these advances, thoughts??? On the plus side, the hour he spent with me allowed me to practice my Spanish, though I never figured out how to say "My jealous boyfriend is waiting for me at the gates" "Mi novio...." When I told him I was leaving to go take a nap he shook my hand and did not follow me. Crisis averted!
Okay back on track:
Day 1: June 20, 2008 finished with my sleeping from 4:30-10:50pm then going to have some pasta for dinner and taking a stroll along Gran Via, nothing exciting or crisis like occurred.
Day 2: Off to the Royal Palace! First, breakfast bacon and eggs and a roll, sounds good, dirt cheap, but - covered in olive oil, just the eggs, not tasty, but edible, mostly just odd however. Now to the palace, ohh my do spanish monarchs love
1. clocks, huge golden ones
2. Jesus
3. Anything over the top, gold thread, gold ceilings, more, more, more!
It took about 3 hours to see it all and then I went in search of lunch in Chueca, the first tapas bar that my book reccomended was standing room only, so I tried the next one. It took me two hours of wandering to find it (with a map in hand) and when I got their, th tapas selection blew. I had some because I was starving, but I don´t understand why it made the guidebook.
I then returned to my hostel, for a brief nap. Those of you who have experienced my ´brief naps´will not be surprised that I slept for 5 hours and missed the flamenco show I was planning on going to. So I had dinner and then went to an internet cafe, then to bed.
That was day 2 - day 3 : the park and much sleeping is ahead - keep on reading!
K-town
Okay back on track:
Day 1: June 20, 2008 finished with my sleeping from 4:30-10:50pm then going to have some pasta for dinner and taking a stroll along Gran Via, nothing exciting or crisis like occurred.
Day 2: Off to the Royal Palace! First, breakfast bacon and eggs and a roll, sounds good, dirt cheap, but - covered in olive oil, just the eggs, not tasty, but edible, mostly just odd however. Now to the palace, ohh my do spanish monarchs love
1. clocks, huge golden ones
2. Jesus
3. Anything over the top, gold thread, gold ceilings, more, more, more!
It took about 3 hours to see it all and then I went in search of lunch in Chueca, the first tapas bar that my book reccomended was standing room only, so I tried the next one. It took me two hours of wandering to find it (with a map in hand) and when I got their, th tapas selection blew. I had some because I was starving, but I don´t understand why it made the guidebook.
I then returned to my hostel, for a brief nap. Those of you who have experienced my ´brief naps´will not be surprised that I slept for 5 hours and missed the flamenco show I was planning on going to. So I had dinner and then went to an internet cafe, then to bed.
That was day 2 - day 3 : the park and much sleeping is ahead - keep on reading!
K-town
Emergencia Social
Hello Friends! Or stalkers! or both "fralkers"!
To be super lame - or super cool? I have elected to start a blog of my spanish adventures, partially to keep those of you who need me to survive (sumantra) updated and to keep some kind of log of what I have done day to day for future reference.
I will try to be interesting and funny, but I have no guarantees of anything, especially not spelling or gramatical correctness. So let´s begin!
Day 1: June 20, 2008.
I arrived at Barajas Airport only to wait an hour for my luggage, the 3rd last off the plane. I then made the unbelievable trek across the airport to the airport subway station, not exaggerating at all, at least a mile. My parents can attest to this fact. I then made my way to Gran Via, the stop I thought was closest to my hostel, not really, another kilometer of walking, but I am thinking gleefully of the calories that I am burning.
I get to Hostal Buenos Aires on Gran Via, and try to understand the sign on the elevator, which I have now come to understand means "It is strictly forbidden to put heavy luggage in here, use the back elevator" thinking that the sign means "It is strictly forbidden for you AND your luggage to ride in here... *something I don´t understand*" I toss in my bags into the elevator and run up the two flights of stairs to meet them, unfortunately, I miss it and the elevator continues up with my baggage (that has my wallet and passport in it) to the 5th floor where other people get in and ride down to the ground floor with my luggage. Petrified that someone is making off with my very heavy things, I start pressing all the buttons I can and eventually the elevator arrives at my floor, with my things unharmed. I checked in a proceed to shower and bathe. What an ordeal! Day 1 evening and day 2 and 3 to come....
K-tizzle
To be super lame - or super cool? I have elected to start a blog of my spanish adventures, partially to keep those of you who need me to survive (sumantra) updated and to keep some kind of log of what I have done day to day for future reference.
I will try to be interesting and funny, but I have no guarantees of anything, especially not spelling or gramatical correctness. So let´s begin!
Day 1: June 20, 2008.
I arrived at Barajas Airport only to wait an hour for my luggage, the 3rd last off the plane. I then made the unbelievable trek across the airport to the airport subway station, not exaggerating at all, at least a mile. My parents can attest to this fact. I then made my way to Gran Via, the stop I thought was closest to my hostel, not really, another kilometer of walking, but I am thinking gleefully of the calories that I am burning.
I get to Hostal Buenos Aires on Gran Via, and try to understand the sign on the elevator, which I have now come to understand means "It is strictly forbidden to put heavy luggage in here, use the back elevator" thinking that the sign means "It is strictly forbidden for you AND your luggage to ride in here... *something I don´t understand*" I toss in my bags into the elevator and run up the two flights of stairs to meet them, unfortunately, I miss it and the elevator continues up with my baggage (that has my wallet and passport in it) to the 5th floor where other people get in and ride down to the ground floor with my luggage. Petrified that someone is making off with my very heavy things, I start pressing all the buttons I can and eventually the elevator arrives at my floor, with my things unharmed. I checked in a proceed to shower and bathe. What an ordeal! Day 1 evening and day 2 and 3 to come....
K-tizzle
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