The other five photos

Some of the pictures:
*The construction with the green fence, and graffiti which showed me that people in Spain, like everywhere else in the world struggle with intolerance
*The fence across the road which kept me penned in like a sheep.
In the next post:
*A typical trail in the mountains.... can you tell where it is?
*A beautiful aqueduct, full of ice cold crystal clear water. I was sorely tempted to drink it, but there was no way I could tell if it was safe...

a slightly depressing reality check...

Today I have unfortunately had my image of Granada, the beautiful, old world, Arabic city in southern Spain cracked just a little. I decided that I wanted to see what was in the south eastern part of the city, and in three hours of walking I was able to cover quite a lot of distance. Too say the least there is just as much money in Granada as any other modern city in the world. There is so much construction going on in the south. All of it huge cement and steel constructions of 10 to 20 stories. The streets are still quite pretty, and there are a lot of trees and shade, but there are no benches, no public water fountains, no cafes on the street, no shops on the first floor of every building. There is a completely different feeling to the roads and buildings. To me it was simply that in the older parts of the city and in Albycin I feel encouraged to linger, to walk slowly, to stop at a cafe and have a café or two, to sit on a bench and watch life move around me. In this part of the city I felt more like a foreigner then anywhere else I have been in Granada. To top it all off I wandered into a gated community and had the hardest time getting OUT again. In all of it's tennis club, watered lawn, beautiful but impractical stone sidewalked glory I had no desire to be in that borough at all and it took me nearly an hour to get out. Why? you may ask. Because I had to go out exactly the same way I went in. I think there was only ONE entrance, and I hate having to backtrack.....
Something else that struck me was that once I had gotten out of that community in a matter of two blocks I was walking down a street where half of the house entrance gates were broken, and the smell of cat and dog excrement was so strong I could hardly stand it. Then at the end of that street there was more beautiful brick and steel constructions. Then I finally managed to find a drinking fountain and there was a young boy perhaps 11 or 12 years old there as well. He was trying to fit a stereo reciever into an old plastic bad that he had scavenged out of the bushes. He just stared at me while I was filing my water bottles..... What was I supposed to do? Should I have said Hi, and tried to talk to him? Should I have given him one of my bottles of water, the bread I had in my backpack, the 2 euro's and change I had in my pocket. Was he staring at me because I was a foreigner? or merely because I was a break in his routine. A singly unique american set down in a small dusty playground in a poor area of a spanish city surrounded by rich communities? I don't know, I ended up just filing my bottles and walking on.....
The pictures are from my walk yesterday and my walk today. Five from each. The ones in the mountains where from yesterday, it is absolutely beautiful, but I've decided that I need to be a bit more careful since I am walking by myself and they are not that frequented, need to think about my saftey a little bit. The other five are from today. Can you guess where I prefere?

a weekend of new experiences

ForformatingpurposesIneedthisline
The pictures are:
*Two pictures of the Mediteranean. As you can see the sun is quite absent, and the waves are a bit extreme for swiming...
*Salvo with water! A needed commodity after an evening of going to the bars.
*Marco and the sea.
*The place where the Bus should have been... but isn't because it was an hour late....
I have had an interesting weekend. On Friday night I went out to the Pub's with my apartment mates and a bunch of their friends. It was an interesting evening to say the least. To begin we all had cocktails at the apartment between 10:30 and 11:30 and then went out to a bar for tapas. Around 12:30 we moved to a bar with something of a far east theme for more drinks and dancing. After that, Julie, Salvo, and I went across town to a different bar where a bunch of the Erasmus students (a very cool student exchange program for Europeans) were having a party, where we stayed untill that bar closed at 4:00 AM. Then, THEN at 4:00 AM, Marco asks "Vamos a bailar?" (We go to dance?). The very first thought that ran through my head was "Are you crazy? It's 4:00 in the morning." Luckily Julie was tired as well and we went back to our apartment to sleep. The night was a blast, but I felt a bit old for the entire night. Part of me thinks "When in Spain, do as the Spanish do." But that is a culture that I have never been a part of in the States and so it's strange for me take part in it here.
At the end of the night, Salvo and Marco had asked a bunch of people if they wanted to go to the beach on Saturday, and I did, so at 10:00 on Saturday I met them at the bus stop, and we went got on the bus (Note: I hate busses, they are big slow and smelly. I much prefer trains, also note 4:45 AM to 9:15 AM is about 5 hours of sleep for me) for an hour long trip to the Mediteranean. Then when we got to the beach the day was extremely fickle. At times it was raining, at others it was sunny and it was windy for the entirety. But I had a good time. Marco and Salvo are both Italian and are learning Spanish as well, so we were continually making horrible mistakes in our Spanish, and relying on gestures to communicate, but it is always interesting for me to hang out with people who are from a different culture than my own and I had a lot of fun.
Also, the drive between Granada and the beach is beautiful, even though it was on a bus. Granada sits in a little bowl in the middle of a bunch of mountains and so the drive was up over and back down the intervening ridge. The closest experience I can compare it to is the time my Uncle Terry took my brother, my cousin and I up to Yosemite. The small, constantly switchbacking roads, the omnipresent hundred+ foot cliff on both sides, and the slight fear of death if the bus happened to roll off the cliff. The beach on the other hand, didn't hold a dime to any average beach on lake Michigan. But the smell of the breeze that rolled off the water struck a note in my soul that reminded me how important living close to water is for me. I don't think I would ever be able to live in a place that was extremely dry for very long.
The bus ride back to Granada was spent sleeping, and I have been recovering for the rest of the weekend. A couple of random things that I have realized recently.
*It is easy speaking spanish with other people who are just learning it, because they speak a lot slower than native speakers. However, for the purposes of learning, it is perhaps not the best.
*I brought a lot more "STUFF" than I needed to live here, and now I'm confronted by a desire to get rid of a bunch of it. I don't like having a bunch of things. They are a bigger chain to a location, and anchor slowing me down than anything else.
*Beauty exists everywhere in the world, but there is something unique for me in Michigan, that doesn't exist in Granada.
*Friendships are very fragile things. The first stage is amazingly fast, like the first week of growth for a tree, it increases its size by an incrediable magnitude, but it takes a very long time to put down roots with the ability to weather a storm of any strength. Will any of the friendships that I make here weather the course of everyone moving back to their respective parts of the world.....? Who knows, maybe.

a matter of timing

The pictures are:
*Two samplings of the graffiti in Granads (Both of them are on the lower end of what I have seen as far as skill, interest, and beauty is concerned. But why is the face so distraught one might ask.)
*Two pictures from my walk in the mountains yesterday. In one it is fairly easy to see two levels in the hillside. Those are two paths, I started out on the bottom one, and then climbed up to the higher one, and ended my walk on the top. Quite difficult but very rewarding. The other one is a picture up a valley to a little town on the other side of the main valley that I was climbing out of.
I took a fairly long walk today all over the city and when I got back I was in a good mood for posting, but my internet connection was being very sketchy and I was pretty tired so I took a nap instead. Now it is four hours later and I'm sitting here attempting to recover some of my ealier mood. It's all a question of timing. So I'll start with a few random things to get myself started.
My apartment is now at capacity. Living there are:
*Myself
*Julie: The German girl from some of my pictures.
*Silvia: An Italian girl that is working as a translator and web developer for the school.
*Kerstin and Garik: A German couple who are in their late 40's to early 50's
It's a pretty interesting dynamic to say the least. Silvia, Julie and I all speak decent english and it is the easiest language for us to communicate in so more often than not it is our language of choice. This has its ups and downs of course. As a matter of developing friendships it is by far the easiest for me in english (obviously), and it is very interesting being able to connect with someone who has grown up in a different country and culture. However as a matter of developing my ability to speak in Spanish, well... it's not the best thing on the planet to say the least.
It does allow me to learn some interesting things. For instance, I'm washing my clothes today and asked Silvia if they have dryers in Italy (we do not have one in our pisa), she replied that it was a very american thing to have. That her brother had one in his house but he never used it because their culture is very much one of letting the clothes dry in the fresh air. For me its an indicator in the difference in our cultures perception of time. In the US it is unacceptable having to wait an entire afternoon for clothes to dry where as it it silly not to in Spain and Italy.
The dynamic in the apartment is also a little strange because Garik and Kerstin are both successful working class adults where Silvia, Julie and I are all untested university kids. Some of us with a healthy dose of idealism :-p.
None of the windows have screens on them, and because of this many insects manage to get into our apartment. This is something that Julie can not handle and I am asked on a daily basis to shoo a moth or butterfly back out her window. Quite amusing for me, as well as enlightening because I am quite reluctant to kill them and much prefer escorting them back into the calle where they can find a more peaceful life without the frantic screams of a German girl.
I went to another book store today with the hopes of finding books in Spanish that I might have half a hope of being able to read. I bought "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" and "Matilda" two of my favorites by Roald Dahl, and if you don't know these books you should go to the library and borrow them. They say that they are for children of age 12, and from the first few pages it appears that in Spanish, I am a child of approximately 12 years. They are neither easy nor difficult for me to read, but just right. Also, they have something of a plot, and an interesting story, unlike the pamphlets that I checked out from the library in my school....
A note on my continuing acquision of the Spanish language. I have never been more aware in my life that I have spent 23 YEARS building my vocabulary and understanding of the English language, and how pretentious and preposterous it is for me to think that in three MONTHS I can have anything but a very rudimentary grasp on the grammar and complexity of Spanish.
While I was walking around Granada this afternoon I couldn't help but think that there is so much beauty in the world. The roads are always curving and climbing. Any walk is a continual reward as each new hill provides an ever changing view of the city. The graffiti is beautiful. It is easy to wonder whether or not the people who are producing such amazing pictures, with spray paint on walls in the street, have galleries full of canvas around the corner. And the People! They are as varied as a lifetime of sunsets over Lake Michigan, and everyone just as beautiful as the next.

the start of a routine

Life for me in Granada has begun to settle down. I am almost half way through the third week of what will be eight weeks total spent here. The shock of living in Spain has begun to wear off and I am begining to develope a routine. Perhaps this is but one of a set of phases of travel for me. I guess I'll see soon. Today I will suffice merely to post a bunch of pictures. The wall that I'm on, is really quite large. It was a slightly treacherous climb up onto it and down off of it. However, it was an extremely cool place to be as it is a relic from when the city was Arabic and it was the protective wall around the city. As you might guess from the pictures not all of it is original.... And Granada is absolutely beautiful from it.

...a beginning

Something small and random, but I'm trying to organize my e-mail in my hotmail account so that it is easier for me to delete all of the daily junk mail that I get, and I came across the first e-mail I ever recieved from the office at PCHUM. From one "Karen Sandler" with subject: "Chapel Hill United Methodist Church," Sent : Monday, October 4, 2004 12:22 PM. Right now, at this moment, I am smiling and my heart is full of warmth for one very specific group of people. People who have welcomed me in and adopted me as their friend, son, brother, cousin, nephew, grandson. Thank you.

connection

The pictures are:
*A funny pic of me looking a little like Cousin It
*Israel and his friend playing sitar and tabla
*The sitar and tabla
A willingness to freely give of yourself, without want or expectation of anything in return, and a gracious acceptance of that which is given to you. A connection made, a footstep changed, a glance exchanged, a life imperceptably altered. For me that is what the best of days would be. A continual melody of conections and my repetitive choice to accept their affects as a part of my life. As a part of who I am, to not deny the change that they affect on my life, to not deny the chorus of the creation.
Today I had the wonderful chance to run into the fire dancer, Ben, who I met a week or so ago, again. After he finished he said that he had to go and do a few more shows, but that I should come to the big street in Albycin with all of the Arabic shops, and to the fifth tienda up on the left, which was a cafeteria, around 11. One of his friends, Israel, was going to be playing the sitar with another guy on tabla, and a belly dancer. It was amazing for me to be sitting in a very small room, surounded by people smoking Hookah, drinking tea, and listening to the music as a belly dancer twirled around in the tiny space in between the tables. It was exactly the type of experience I had been hoping for when I decided to come to Granada. I wish that I had the ability record music, or that I would have been able to take pictures (the few that I have are pretty dark, a flash would have ruined the mood...) so that I could share some small part of the experience with everyone reading this blog. It was incredible.
Then afterward all of us went up to Israel's flat, which was just above the cafeteria, and had food, drank drink, played music, and generally had a great time. It seems that everytime I allow myself to have a seemingly completely random encounter, to make friends with some guy sitting next to me at waterstreet, or a fire dancer in the pasaeo de los tristes, a wonderful thing occurs. The risk, the first gift, the difficulty that I experience in extending myself to give some piece of me, and then let go of it completely, has seemed to be repayed unto me a thousand fold.
I do not how to adaquetly describe what it is like to sit in a little apartment, in an ancient building that has probably been around since Islam was the dominant religion in Granada, with people from a dozen different countries, speaking at least 4 different languages, and to feel at home, to feel like I belonged. All less than 5 hours after meeting everyone in the room. Incredible.....

un dia por los dios

The photos in no particular order are:
*Three pictures of the school. One of the stairs leading up, and the first level courtyard, one of a corner of the interior stack, and one of the stack taken from flat on the ground in the middle, looking up.
*The two flamenco players
*Julie, Juan Jose (a spanish guy we met), and I
It is official, living at the school is a thing to be extremely grateful for. Tonight the schedualed event was a potluck dinner at Jose's, with sangria provided, and the potential for some Flamenco music afterward. Well, me and Julie left our apartment, picked up Manolo (el jefe de la escuela) on the way out and headed over to Jose's casa. About a 20 minute walk later and we're eating food, drinking sangria and talking on the roof of his building waiting for the rest of the people to come. One everyone gets there we are all treated to some Flamenco music from two players, a bunch of duets from our Russian intern, Sergay, and a German girl, (in Russian, English, and German) and a couple of purely German solo's from the girl. AMAZING, is all I have to say. I would have never guessed that Russian is such a beautiful language for singing, but it is and Sergay's playing/singing made my want to try to learn a bit of it.
I feel like it was such a unique experience to have. Sitting on a random rooftop in Granada with 9 other people having a little fiesta, talking, singing, and listening, all in a complete mix of languages. The important part is that people were able to understand and connect. I find it interesting that I have come to realize, in my own time, the same thing that my brother told me quite a few years ago about travling. The places and monuments are very interesting, and worth seeing, but it is the people and the connections that are really make travling incrediable. Verdad.
I learned another thing that I am proud to be and american about tonight. Julie was talking about the process of applying for a job in Germany and she said that it was required to send in a personal photo with your application. She asked me if requiring that was prohibited in the US. I honestly don't know. It seemed like such a foreign concept to me. Why would an employer need to see a picture of a person they were considering hiring? Why would they need anything other than a list of that persons education, and abilities to determine whether or not to invite them in for an interview. What other reason could there be than for ageism, racism, sexism, (fill in your -ism here)-ism ect.... As much as we still struggle with equal oportunity in the states, in comparison, it is better than many places now.

LIBRE!!!

I have spent my time in purgatory to atone for whatever traveling sins I may have made and am now in Heaven. I asked the director of the school if it would be possible for me to change my housing to the apartment over the school, and today he said yes, and gave me the keys. So I quickly moved out of my house stay, and into the apartment this afternoon.
Ohh what a change. Julie, the german girl who is also living in the apartment, has been here for two months already and she has made quite a few friends, so tonight I got invited along for Tapas. Wonderful, wondeful evening. Her friend Salvo, is Italian and he invited a lot of his italian friends as well. Which was very good because all of us are learning Spanish, and it is the only language that we all have in common, and so we spoke in Spanish for the entire evening. Very good for my learning process. Also, it is quite a bit easier with other students because they speak quite a bit slower and don't have such a thick "TH" Adalucian accent. It was very cool speaking with a bunch of people who all know bits and peices of different languages, but who are all trying to learn the same language. The conversation took place in an incredible mix of languages. When one person didn't know a word the rest of the group pooled their colective knowledge to figure out a way to explain it to them. Or to figure out what the word was. So good conversation for one.
The Tapas were sweet, very large, and free with the purchase of a drink. What a wonderful concept. We'll feed you for free when you drink so that you don't get so drunk that you can't leave our establishment... :-p Not only that but the beer was relatively decent as well. Something that I would put on par with Corona perhaps. It's not an Oberon, an Arcadia IPA, or an OP draft, very few beers have the posibility of rivaling Kalamazoo micro brews with me, but it was drinkable. Good food and drink for two.
And then for the third to make the charm, I got to walk back with Julie to our wonderful flat above the school and talk to her about the evening. AND the apartment has a coffee pot!!!! Ohh my savior, what a wonderful day.
The photos are, in no particular order:
*A classroom at the school, with my Profesora: Mar
*My new room. Still small but MINE. LIBRE!
*The coffee pot!!!! w00t
*The remains of some Tapas
*Salvo (Julies Italian friend) and his friend Valentia (I think...)
*Julie, Me and Alexi, all students at the school

host families....

So I have avoided posting about this because I feel like it will end up being more of a rant than anything else. But I'm a little fed up and need to vent a bit....
Ok, so I've never stayed with a host family before and do not have anything to compare my experience with, so if anyone reading has an experience good or bad please comment for me. Perhpas it would be different if I was younger and had not been living on my own for the last five years, but right now it is not a particularly enjoyable thing for me to be living with a family. The family that I am staying with is a husband and wife, probably between 55 and 65, and their 35 year old daughter. In the US it would be extremely odd for a 35 year old daughter to still be living with her parents, in Spain it's less odd, but most of the people at my school that I've asked about it say that it's still pretty unusual. My host family currently has 5 students living with them, FIVE. Living in their flat is more like staying in a hostel with extremely particular and annoying owners. I get scolded about something on almost a daily basis. This morning it was because I had my foot on one of the cross bars of the chair while I was eating breakfast. The father came in and scolded me like a five year old, saying "The bar is very weak. If you break it you will have to pay me for it. Your feet are for the floor." I almost busted out my wallet and asked him how much he wanted for his lousy chair right then and there. I can understand if your worried that your furniture might break, but don't scold me like I'm a child. To add more oddities the mother washed my clothes for me... Ummmm... I don't even let my own mother wash my clothes for me anymore, I'm perfectly willing to use other peoples facilities but let me do it. THEN I got scolded for having too much laundry. I'm not sure whether it was because I didn't know what to do with it and hand't put it in the laundry basket until I was asked if I had laundry, or if it was that I wear to much clothing. It's not like I'm changing clothes three times a day and throwing them in the dirty laundry. I think one set of underclothes, one t-shirt a day, and one pair of pants per 2-4 days is pretty reasonable.
So when I had originally signed up to stay in a home stay rather than in an apartment I had thought that I would be staying with a family who wanted to get to know "extranjeros" who would be curious about my life and culture and in return help me to learn their language, customs and culture. This is not the case. I am not encourged to spend time with the family, and my interactions are limited to my plans for the day, being scolded about doing something, and being asked if I've met any cute spanish girls yet.
I don't know... maybe it's just me.

one other thing

One other thing that I was reminded of this morning, which is quite different in Granada, is that it is quite a regular occurence to see a dirt bike, or a four wheeler roaring past on the street. Let me tell you it is very odd for me to see somebody sitting on a four wheeler roaring past at full throttle in the middle of an urban area..... Bizarre

un malabarista del fuego

So last night I was sitting in a cafe just passing time when I noticed and irregularity among the street preformers. There were two guys, somewhere in their twenties, who where practicing twirling around a long baton, and a set of chains with wads of cloth on the ends. Turns out they were fire jugglers. Very, very cool. I don't know about you, but it's not everyday that I get to see anyone juggling flame. I kind of had to feel sorry for the other performers. There are constantly people playing instruments, and converging together to make up impromtu groups for the purpose of garnering tips, but they were kind of put to shame by the spectacle of two fire jugglers.

At the prompting of my brother there are a couple of things specifically about being in Granada that I have been wanting to share, but have lacked the inspiration.
*Many of the sidewalks in the newer part of town are composed of set stone, the kind of pattern that you would be proud to have in your patio, or entranceway. They are almost always slightly slippery, and much more so when wet, but it is a wonderful change from walking on poured cement all the time. Also, it seems that almost everyone in Granada has a dog, and it is perfectly fine for them to poop where ever and whenever they want/need, and their owners have no obligation to pick it up..... so whenever I am walking down the sidewalk some small part of my mind is thinking about not stepping in dog poop. Also, the city has many, many employees whose job it is to clean the streets, so I am constantly seeing someone with a broom, or a hose, sweeping or washing the streets and sidewalks.
*The school that I am going to is located in the old Arabic part of town, which is quite different from the rest of the city. The streets were definately not designed with cars in mind, and are paved with random stones set in some type of cement. They vary from just wide enough for a car, to barely wide enough for two people, and are constantly winding, turning, going up and going down, always very abruptly and very steeply. But it is by far the most interesting part of the city to me. There is almost never a dead end (although I found two just this afternoon), and it is always a treat to walk along and suddenly discover some small park, or plaza with an amazing veiw of the city and the mountains. Speaking of discovery. For me everything that I find in Granada is a discovery. Since I don't have that wonderful of a grasp on the language, and I know hardly anything about the city, everytime I find a particularly good cafe, or a place with a wonderful view I have an amazing feeling of serendipitous discovery.
*It is impossible for me to get a cup of coffee to go for my morning walk up to the school. I have asked my profesora about this multiple times and she always responds with "cafe por la calle?" or "coffee for the street?" Why would you want a coffee if you don't have the time to sit and drink it? I am almost tempted to actually enter the McDonalds or the Burger King in my attempts to get a cup of joe, but my revulsion for fast food has so far won out and I am learning to live without my morning cup of coffee.
*Just before I left, I was talking with Erin Carlson (one of the people at my church for any non-Chapel Hillians reading) and she told me not to come back with the "lisp"...... Umm thats going to be fairly impossible for me to do. The spanish that is spoken in granada has FIVE different ways to produce the "th" sound, and they are used very frequently. Any time I see a "za", "ce", "ci", "zo", or "zu", it is important for me to think "tha", "thay", "thee", "tho", "thoo", or I will never be able to talk to or to understand anyone in the city.




On saturday I wanted to try to find the university in Granada, partially in hopes of finding some mathematicians to talk to, partially just because I'm and academic and was curious what it was like. Unfortunately it was Saturday, and everything was closed. However I did find it quite amusing that someone had tagged an anarchy symbol on the gate... :-D

cosas al azar

So here is the number one thing that I do miss about Kalamazoo. When I am in Kalamazoo I know a place where I can get free wireless that is less than a mile away, no matter where I am in the city. I feel that my dependence on having the internet is some small comentary on my personality. One that might be good or bad depending on what light it is examined in. But I do depend on it, and it is quite frustrating to me to have to pay by the minute for internet use. There are so many things that I have grown used to having at my finger tips. Not only the ability to communicate with people, but also the wealth of information available in www.wikipedia.org, the instant translation available from babelfish.altavista.com the wonderful powers of www.dictionary.com, the connection to the world through www.bbcnews.com, english.aljazeera.net, and all of the blogs that I'm used to reading on a semi-daily basis, and the ability to google anything at all and find some piece of illuminating information. Does this mean that I fully ascribe to the information age? Yes, I think so. Is that a part of U.S. culture? I don't know. Is the ability to access that information a reason I should be proud to be an american????

On a completely different note, I have been recently reminded of Shirleys shirt "So many books, so little time." I need one that says "Muchos mas palabras, pocito tiempo." There is so much to learn, and so little time to do it in. It is so important for me to make friends and to talk with them, but making friends is something that is extremely hard to do when you can't talk to them...... Bleh, paradoxes are frustrating.

I met two americans at the café yesterday. A brother and a sister, aged 19 and 21 respectively. The brother had just finished up a gap year spent in London and they were traveling around Europe together a little before they headed back to the states. I was reluctant to talk with them at first because it meant that I would have to speak in english. But my desire to make a connection won out and I ended up talking to them for close to half an hour. I think what stuck with me the most was that I mentioned to them that I had a lot of reluctance to speak too much because it would advertise the fact that I was an american. Which is a problem because I lack the conversational skills in spanish to BE me, and so I feel like I have nothing to diferentiate me from the stereotypical american tourist, something I very much do NOT want to be. They couln't have agreed with me more. They thought that it was important for them to be polite and courteous, and that it was also clear to them that the US isn't liked very much in the world right now. It was a good encounter for me because it increased my feelings that acceptance, politeness, and respect for and to everyone, and every culture is something that is important to a growing minority of americans.

Time to go drink more café and try to learn some more spanish.

A collection of slightly random things, and experiences

To answer your question John, yes it is here, and has one of the largest store fronts on the street. No I have not eaten there, I don't like to eat fast food, I think almost everyone who would be reading this knows that. Mostly I sit in Cafe's in Paseo de los Tristes (The Place of Sadness) which is a very beautiful plaze directly underneath the Alhambra and drink cafe, and eat many interesting dishes which are kinda familiar but very different from the food that I know.


Dave you were definately right about the coffee, it was stupid of me to want to try to stop drinking it while I am here. A normal cup of coffee from a cafe, is made with and expresso machine and has perhaps twice the volume of an expresso shot you might get at Waterstreet. Not only that but it comes with a huge package of sugar (right down my alley), and is extremely good. To say the least I had four of them in a row yesterday....

One thing that I love about Granada is that it is a wonderful city to walk in. It is quite small, and I can get from one place to almost anyother in a very short period of time. However, I would not want to drive here. All of the streets are tiny, I still haven't figured out how the traffic signals work for the motorized vehicles, and there are so many motorcycles it's crazy. Whenever there is a red light all of the motorcycles jocky for position up to the front and when it turns green it's like a big pack of dogs blasting off to get to the next light. Pretty darn funny, but extremely frightening if you happen to get caught in front of them.....


From what I understood from my host family and my teacher that is a monastery. The place that I was taking the picture from is on a hill opposite it which was perhaps a 30-45 minute walk north-east of the city. It is a very beautiful place.


To end, that is a picture of my and my Profesora, Maria del Mar. But she thinks Maria is way to catholic and just goes by Mar. She's pretty damn smart. In Spain it takes three years for the first qualification from a University and five for the second. She get the second level in four years. Pretty impressive.

Several Lessons, and a predicament..

Two things I have learned since the last post, both concerning eating. One: Imagine this situation, I'm quite hungry and want dinner so I walk into a Doner Kabab restaurant (not the best food on the planet) and wonder what I'm supposed to do. Well the waiter points to a table, so I sit, and then he comes over and takes my order, brings my food, and acts very waiter-ish. So I eat, drink, finish my meal and begin to wonder how I'm supposed to pay. I try all the usual things, i.e. catch the waiters eye, or try to get his attention in some way to no avail. So I sit, and wait, and lo and behold another patron has saved the day, by going up to the counter and paying the cashier. Moral of the situation: when in an unfamiliar situation that involves lots of other people, just wait. Inevitably someone else will perform the correct action and show you what it is.

Situation number two. I'm sitting in my host family's kitchen eating lunch, and part of the meal is fried chicken breasts. Pretty darn tasty, however one of the ones I took still had a bone in it. How do you eat chicken when it still has bones?? With your fingers of course.... whoa there, not in espana. I had origianally tried to cut it with my knife, but of course failed when I hit the bone, and so put down the knife and attempted to pull it apart with my fingers. My host father made the assumption that the knife I had wasn't sharp enough and so got up and fished a serrated steak knife out of the drawer for me to use. Of course I didn't have the words to tell him that wasn't the problem, and so I learned how to eat chicken on the bone without my fingers. Moral of the situation, when in an unfamiliar situation with few people, all of whom are interested in seeing you succeed, do whatever you think you should, and you will be corrected in a friendly manner if it isn't right.

So after three days, and two classes in Granada, I feel fairly comfortable in the city. I like to walk a lot, and besides the fact that my feet are still reminding me in various ways that I live a very sedentary life in Kalamazoo, I have been all over Granada. My goal for this week is to see how high in the City I can get. If you don't know Granada is surrounded by mountains, and the city itself is really quite small so it is very easy to walk towards the edges and climb really quite high. it is very exhausting but extremely beautiful. Also, I have gotten a little more comfortable speaking with various shop keepers and waiters, although I can still only communicate in the present. Which is ok for my purposes and considering where I'm starting from I am not upset at all. I feel as if I have learned an immense amount in just two days. I can only imagine what I can learn in three months. But I kind of feel as if learning spanish has a slightly logarithmic curve to it, i.e. extremely fast in the begining until I can communicate ok, and then little by little for the rest of my life.

My predicament. So this is my predicament. I am in Granada for the express purpose of learning Spanish, and although the city is overrun by tourists (many of them speaking english) I do not want to talk to them. I find myself trying to think, speak, and read only in spanish, which is quite difficult given I am returned to the level of a child of elementary age. However, it is much easier to do in a Spanish city then in the states. The problem that arrises is that I want to talk with people. Everyone who knows me, knows that the thing which is most important to me is to make real human connections. This is very difficult to do, when everyone I meet sees me as an adult, and yet I can only communicate at the level of a child. Es una problema muy grande.


The following pictures are (in no particular order), my school, the sunset over the mountains from pretty far up in Granada, and the Alhambra from the same location.



P.S. Being able to adjust the exposure time on the camera is very nice. The sunset picture and the Alhambra picture are taken approximately the same time. However it does create problems with blurring... :-/