Wrap-Up of Spain

We took the final exam today, which means tonight will be a MAJOR celebration! It also means that tomorrow we have farewell business and party, and Saturday everyone leaves. There are five of us that are staying in Europe for fall term. Everyone else is going home. I am more excited about staying than sad about not going. Saturday evening I will take an overnight train with two friends here to Barcelona. Mike and I will meet there Sunday morning to begin our two and a half week whirlwind European tour. I AM SO EXCITED I CAN BARELY CONTAIN MYSELF!!!

We both favor freedom and flexibility over rigidity and security in traveling, so here is the tentative schedule:

Aug. 31- Sept. 1: Barcelona
2-3: Train through Southern France
4-5: Cinque Terre
5-7: Florence
7-10: Venice
11-13: Interlaken, Switzerland
14-17: Paris

From there, I go to London and Mike goes home. I am looking forward to this "second phase" of travel. During my week of traveling alone, I did not afford myself the luxury of flexibility. Everywhere I went, I had a map of the city practically memorized along with bus schedules, museum hours, major attractions, etc. I allowed Rick Steves (brilliant man that he is) to direct my course. This next phase will be quite different for the following reasons: 1) Although I am equally excited, I am less terrified about the concept of traveling in Europe. 2) I will not be alone. Not even the staunchest feminist can deny that a 5'2'' female is much safer if accompanied by a man packing a whole extra foot and 60 lbs. It's just basic math. 3) I have adopted a different mindset about travel. Rather than packing in every single museum and site possible, I have accepted that there is no way to see it all. Trips are more enjoyable, experienced enriched, and places enhanced by taking one's time. A slice of chocolate cake is always better than the eating the whole thing at once. Besides, gotta save some for the next trip, right?

As I have said time and time before, the past month has been an absolute blur. I honestly cannot believe how fast it went by. The past five weeks have given me such an appreciation for this amazing country that goes beyond its rich history. I remember learning in my Spanish current events class about the prostitution problem in Spain; this was confirmed by the prostitutes that lined the streets outside my hostel in Madrid. We discussed the botellon or the Spanish custom of people gathering in the plazas to drink and socialize, and this I experienced personally. :) We also learned about the massive influx of immigration (4.5 million immigrants in the last 30 years) this country has seen after complete isolation during the Franco regime. In truth, Morrocans can be found selling burned DVD's on many a Spanish street corner, and an Argentinian woman sells me fruit at the local fruteria. With such a large inundation of immigrants in so short of time, it is no wonder the Spanish are wary of foreigners.

Along with current Spain, it has been so nice to see the romantic Spain of antiquity that has always interested me. The Spain of Goya, Lorca, Picasso, and Hemmingway. Of bullfights and flamenco. Even the nitty-gritty Reconquest and Inquisition have helped shape the history and flavor of this place. And then there are the times when the two converge in a vivid and chilling way. For me, this has been seeing an old person in a park and knowing that their wrinkled face has experienced repression under a dictatorship or perhaps even lost a loved one in the Civil War. That part of Spanish history is still an open wound, and people glare when someone utters the word "Franco."

Oh, by the way, studying a language in a native country is the ONLY way to learn it. The ONLY way. My Spanish has improved exponentially since coming here, and I know that if I stayed it would only continue to improve. I will leave you with some pictures from the past few days: hiked up the tallest mountain Oviedo to see a giant Jesus, the pre-Roman cathedrals here in Oviedo, and view of the city.

La vida te da sorpresas, sorpresas te da la vida...

It is quite interesting the different reasons people learn a new language. The majority of our class revealed that they would like to use it in their future careers, or at least use it to attain said future careers as Spanish-speakers are always highly-solicited in the job market. Others want to live in a Spanish-speaking country. The Italian girl is studying for the sole purpose that it is the second most-spoken language in the world. One of the American students is already fluent in Spanish as a native Panamanian. Why study it then? It was the easiest degree she could get before pursuing her dream of going to culinary school. I didn't really know how to answer this question. I do not know if I will use Spanish in my future career, and I don't really care about the diploma. When it came my turn to answer I simply said that I have always wanted to learn, but I could not think back to why this was. I suppose part of the reason is to learn another culture and society that has become so much a part of our own, especially along the West coast and South, but I know it goes beyond that. Also, I think I just like learning language. My favorite answer, however, came from the English fellow Joel, who is learning to be able to speak to the parents of his Spanish girlfriend. Que preciosa!

Today was a beautiful day in Oviedo... one of our rare sunny days, although I really haven't minded the clouds. I took the opportunity to go for a run along a new path that had a great view of the city. You know Terwilliger Road in Portland? It was kind of like that. I think the main way I have come to bond with this region is by immersing myself in its nature. My favorite times here have been exploring new trails and villages on our excursions, walking along the beach, and finding a freaking castle! It is so much like the Pacific Northwest that in a beautiful and melancholy way, it reminds me of home. I did not expect to find that feeling here (I expected to find it in England), so it has been a very comforting and easy place to pass my August. :)

Oh, and kayaking! I should probably tell you about that. It was not CLASS FIVE RAPIDS kind of kayaking so much as a nice leisurely 15 kilometer float down a beautiful river. We ran into an Irish family on the river who said "It's like the Oregon Trail, no?" and it really was. This is apparently a really popular activity because the river was absolutely PACKED, creating a bumper boat-like experience. At one of the faster, narrower sections of the river all the kayakers were trying to get through at once, which created chaos. The current caused our kayak to push another kayak into a fallen tree, causing them to capsize. To keep from capsizing ourselves, we had to paddle really fast, which I am sure looked like a frantic fleeing of the scene of the crime. I felt bad, but what are you going to do? Another one of the narrow sections was covered in jagged rocks, and without doing anything to stop ourselves, Casey and I became stuck in them. I was laughing hysterically as we scooted ourselves forward to get over the rocks, but quickly shut up as the kayak tipped forward and I looked down into white water. I was freaking out, but Casey (who was in the back) kept scooting us forward until we made it safely over the rocks. All the kayakers below clapped when we made it through this mildly treacherous part of the river.

That was the day of the Spain-U.S. basketball game, which was a big deal for everyone here but me... So I am sorry I don't have more information on that front. Everyone who found out we were American had a host of questions to ask... Luckily, others in our party were more informed.

Cultural Differences and a Treasure Hunt

Studying in a class full of international students certainly provides for some interesting conversations, especially when discussing our cultural differences. Two of my classmates even wear the Hijab in their patria of Tunisia in Northern Africa. We discovered that certain things are the same everywhere such as arguing to pay for the bill at a restaurant and bringing a bottle of wine to a dinner. We also discussed superstitions, and it appears that black cats, walking under a ladder, and breaking a mirror are universally considered bad omens... also universally-executed and proven false. In Tunisia, being crapped on by a bird is a sign of good luck. In most places, ravens mean death, expect for England where the people solute crows because they are a symbol of the monarchy. I hope they don't expect me to do this because there is no way will I solute those dirty winged-rats...

In Spain, manners and politeness are absolutely superfluous. In part, this is because the language has internalized many polite forms of speech and partly because they are just considered unnecessary. This catches many visitors off guard. Even forewarned, I was taken aback. When ordering food, waiters stride right up to your table and say dime or "tell me" without inquiring about your evening or listing the house specials. If you are not ready, do not expect him to ever come back. And when you are done, be sure to ask for the bill or you will sit there for an hour wondering how to pay, as I may or may not have experienced. My roommate Zach revealed in class that it bothered him that no one said "buenos dias" to him in the morning. Maria's reply was something to the tune of: "Ay, do you walk around saying "buenos dias" to everyone in the morning??? They must think you're crazy!" All the "pleases" and "thank yous" that we throw around just leave the Spanish wondering why we pollute conversation with unnecessary clutter. My mother must have taught me good manners, as I am finding it exceedingly difficult to shed these niceties in everyday interaction. Our house-mom Reme revealed that the Spanish aren't being rude so much as more sincere, and I actually find this straightforwardness refreshing.

Yesterday, a group of us went on a little adventure to find the lighthouse in Gijon. I already liked the idea of finding a lighthouse, but it turned out we were finding the lighthouse because it was a Geo cash. As usual, it turned out to be quite the adventure involving a wild bison/beast viewing and a wrong turn that landed us in a coal mine. The rest of the group decided to head back, but Shannon and Amy and I kept on, climbing a big hill and following the path out to the lighthouse. It was quite the tourist spot with a museum and some Roman ruins, but none of this seemed important compared to the treasure hunt.

For those of you who don't know, Geo cashes are special sites hidden all over the world with objects inside that people trade and take to the next site, which is really a beautiful idea that makes the world seem a lot smaller. Some of these objects are called 'travel bugs' meaning they have a website with all the places they have been and where they are trying to end up. Shannon had a piece of a bike she found in Portland that was trying to get to Italy. I was surprised how the thrill of the hunt affected us because even Amy and I were getting really into it and searching between all the rocks. It felt like quite the victory when we pulled away some rocks around the wall and found a Tupperware container full of random objects that people have left. Geocashes are VERY hard to find since they normally just have coordinates, so the victory was doubled.

Tongues, Picasso, and Beer

So it turns out the castle is a private residence... Laaaaame, but would be cool if it were my private residence... hmm...

Also, today in class Maria discussed the importance of pronunciation at the advanced level to appear less "foreign." We had quite a bit of fun realizing the different vowel sounds our respective tongues are naturally programmed to say, while others we are hard-wired to reject. We did a few exercises. The best was hearing the English students try to pronounce the Spanish "u" and how they would get so nervous for it because their mouths are simply not programmed for that sound.

This afternoon we went to the Museo de Bellas Artes here in Oviedo with our art history professor, whom I love. I had never been to the art museum here before, but apparently we have 12 El Greco's, two Goya, one Dali, and even a Picasso! We are studying Picasso and Dali in art history this week so it was very fun to see them and have her explain it at the same time. I am glad I am taking this class before going to the Picasso Museum in Barcelona, because I saw tons of Goyas and Velazques' in the Prado and tons of El Greco's in Toledo, and I in retrospect there was so much I completely missed. Afterwards, she took us for some delicious truffle ice cream!

Tonight we went to The Asturianu again (favorite Oviedo bar) because Jonathon was holding a trivia night. At first there were nine of us in total, so we split into three times of three and, as the only people in the bar, we felt pretty confident that we would win. However, the Spanish shuffled in about 30 minutes late (so typical), and took third and first prize: a fishbowl of beer and a fish-tank of beer. I didn't feel too bad about it because the questions featured Spanish Olympics and Spanish pop music... not my specialty. Luckily for us, the winners didn't want their whale-tank of beer, so they gave it to us. We passed it around in a circle and somehow managed to finish the whole thing.

I am excited for the rest of the week: Tomorrow we are hiking up to a cathedral and cross on a hill right outside of Oviedo; Thursday a friend and I are finding the lighthouse in Gijon; Friday is MTV in Gijon, which should be a spectacle if nothing else; Saturday is our excursion to Cantabria and Eastern Asturias; and Sunday is (weather-permitting) the kayaking trip. Now please appreciate the largest beer ever!

Just an ordinary day...

Today in class Maria the Awe-Prof (Awesome Profesora) decided to teach us the many colloquial phrases that rely upon stereotypes of different nationalities. It seemed odd... I wouldn't think to teach someone learning English phrases like "to jip" or "jew it down," but I guess they are more common in Spanish. Some of the phrases such as "to be the Indian" and "to drink like a Russian" were downright offensive for a room full of international students, and were we were forced to write them down in the worksheets! One funny thing was that Jill (an English student) walked into class ten minutes late right when we were discussing la punctualidad Britanica or British punctuality. Maria said she as all for breaking stereotypes.

I managed to humiliate myself horribly when asking Maria what enganar like a Chinese man meant. She said "enganar es...you know...to chit" and without really thinking about it I blurted out "to SHIT?!?" ... Everyone burst out laughing. What would that even entail? No, she assured me, it meant to cheat like a Chinese man... Ohhh, that's MUCH better! lol It only took two weeks, but I managed to let my true colors show.

Later this afternoon, I decided to go for a run down this 6-mile trail that starts from a park close to our dorm. I set out for a nice run, and ended up finding a diamond in the rough. The trail wound through the green countryside on an old train-track, meaning it went through tunnels under the mountains! It ended at this little village, and the only word I can think to describe it is quaint. It had small colorful houses with laundry drying on clotheslines, and all the weathered buildings were exposing brick. I stood out like a sore thumb with my running shorts and ipod... and being under 50. You could tell this place didn't receive a lot of foot traffic with the viciously barking dogs and the squinting eyes that followed me as I passed. (Hun, picture Gandalf entering Hobbiton) Old men would sit outside their stoop puffing on pipes (Pipes!).

Sensing I was not a welcome guest, I continued on the road just to see where it led before I turned around, and lo and behold I found a CASTLE! Albeit a small one, but still... a castle! Well, I am not really sure exactly what it was, and the walls and ominous gate prevented me from finding out, but it had two towers that stood about 50 ft high. There was a picture of the cross of the old Asturian King on the gate, so I don't know how that factors in but I intend to find out. The whole thing was positively COVERED in ivy, hence why it took me so long to see it in the first place.

That is one of the things I love about this place. You can set out for a completely normal day, and stumble across something amazing. Ordinary doesn't exist here. The minute I get into a routine, something wild happens to turn it all on its head. But that's what makes it exciting, and that's what makes it go by so fast!

German Bar-B!

Yesterday was very rainy and blah forcing us to postpone the kayak trip till next weekend. I was fine with it though... Who wants to kayak in the rain? Instead, a couple of girls and I went to Gijon to try the beach. It was fun until the rain found that place too.

The highlight of the day was by far the German barbecue. Now this barbecue, and our invitation to it, was kind of iffy. On the bus-ride home from our excursion on Friday, one German girl took the microphone and began saying something in really fast German that caused people to raise their hands and salivate. I looked around confusedly, until someone said "en espanol!" She then relayed in Spanish that the Germans were throwing a BBQ and that we were welcome. Half of the Americans could not understand the Spanish, so it remained hazy if we were really invited or not.

A group of us decided to go anyway; we were simply unable to pass up the chance at free food. To ensure our welcome, we stopped at the store and bought a few bottles of wine, a chocolate cake, chips and guacamole, and macaroons. When we arrived at the park, I was expecting your typical mass-produced barbecue food: roasted hot dogs and a bag of chips. I was sorely mistaken. The array of foods that colored the picnic tables was a site to behold. Baguettes with home-made sauces, fruit salads, melon salads, pasta salads, REAL LETTUCE SALADS (!), vegetable kabobs, potatoes, and the meat! Oh the meat... REAL BRATWURSTS!!! I was on my second brat (and feeling very full) when one girl said "After this take a pause cause the real meat is about to come." I was very surprised to hear this and replied: "This isn't the real meat?" She just looked at me and laughed and said "You've never been to a German barbecue before have you?" No I had not, but they sure know their stuff!

Even better than the food was the wonderful company. Traveling friends have told me that Germany is one of the best places to visit because of the friendly people and delicious food. I know believe them and want to go there SOOOO bad! More than France, even. Initially, I was excited to practice my Spanish at the BBQ, but this didn't end up happening as all the Germans spoke English. It's weird that they are so proficient in at least two or three languages while most Americans only speak one: American. It is a critique of both American society and our educational system. The social critique is the idea that we somehow don't need to learn other languages because of cultural imperialism. Everyone else should have to learn our language. Even those that do try to learn other languages can study for years and years and still feel marvelously insufficient (like me). Germany's educational system is one of the top in the world, while America's is wayyyy down there. I am three classes away from a Spanish major, and I struggle to hold a basic conversation...

Another fun topic of conversation was stereotypes. Germans have all these ideas about Americans based off of MTV. I couldn't help but laugh to hear that shows like My Super Sweet 16 and Flavor of Love were forming international opinions about our society. I explained that the reason those are shows on TV is because they are absolutely ridiculous. One girl Christine leaned in with big eyes and whispered "you mean ze gerls do not get ze sportzcar on zer birthday?" It does happen, but not to the degree they think. Other stereotypes were more accurate: driving everywhere instead of walking, not taking school seriously... They asked what stereotypes we had about Germans, and all I could think of was the strict German schoolmistress and the harsh language. They did not find these to be true at all.

What a fun group of people! We tried to meet up with them at the bars later, but couldn't find them. They only have one more week in Spain, so we'll get them before they go. They had all these great German cheers, and they LOVED to hear us try them. They broke out into a drinking song for our entertainment, which ended up being "Iiiiif you're gooooing to Zaaan Fraanzizco???" I couldn't stop laughing.

I should get off of here... I have the most horrible habit of rambling on and on. I was so happy to make some new friends and eat some delicious food. And now I MUST find my heritage there. They assured me they would help.

Covadonga and So Much More!!!

Omg so much has happened! It is so weird how for days and days nothing will happen, and then BOOM! Like a crappy horror movie, everything happens in the last half hour. This will be somewhat of a catch-up post, so if you are not a fan of long blogs (or simply don't wish to hear me rant for page after page), then this just isn't the blog for you. Now that I have effectively frightened the majority of you away, let's get on with it, mom!

So yesterday we had our midterm, which absolutely blows my mind that I am half done with school here. It is going by so fast! It is also a double-holiday in Gijon (the neighboring city on the sea). All week Gijon has been celebrating themselves as a city. I love this idea. It is comparable to the Portland Rose Festival, but much grander than the Eugene Celebration. There has been live music every night and last night was a spectacular fireworks show over the ocean from behind the Cathedral. It started at midnight, and literally EVERYONE crowded onto the beach to watch. This was unusual because just hours prior there had been a huuuuge rain and thunderstorm (the likes of which this region rarely sees) that scared many home. It caught us on our way to the train station, but luckily we ducked into my new favorite bar called The Asturianu. It recently opened, and feels very homey with wood paneling, barrels, and old beer bottles. It is run by a former program-student from OSU named Jonathon, who decided to just never go home after studying in Oviedo. We speculate there is a girl involved somewhere, but are too embarrassed to ask.

Ok, I'm getting side-tracked. So the Gijon celebration was amplified because today (Friday) is a Spanish holiday celebrating the Virgen de Begonia. Spain celebrates by shutting down all its stores, and settling into two camps: Those who do not work in the Tourist industry and can become tourists, and those who do work in the tourist industry and must work. We fell in the former category! Because of the holiday, we did not have class and went on our excursion instead. The first stop was a town called Cangas de Onis, and was really not that cool. It had a Roman bridge and we went for a nice little walk in the country, but it was pretty uneventful. The hot ticket of the day was Los Lagos de Covadonga. This is a destination that had been attempted twice last month and failed both times due to inclement weather. All day we kept asking "Podemos ir a los lagos?" to which the professors shook their heads, indicating we wouldn't know until we got there and the weather permitted our passage.

Well guess what. It did! And I am so glad it did too, because it was gorgeous! The Lagos are some lakes that sit way up in the Picos de Europa, which is a mountain range on the ocean and the first national park in Spain. When I say it was "way up," I mean wayyyyyy up. We're talking one of the longest most nauseating twisty-twindy rides up the mountains of my life, and with my father, that's saying something. These bus drivers were hauling ass too, and flying past each other on a single-lane road. It didn't help that my friend Casey (next to me) kept citing statistics on bus accidents in 3rd world countries and saying "It only takes a slip of the hand and we're scrambled eggs at the bottom.." But when we got there, it was so worth it! The lakes were nestled in the mountains and cows were roaming EVERYWHERE. Hiking all around, I seriously felt like Heidi and I haven't even visited the Alps yet! The only downside was the exorbitant amount of tourists, but because we were not restricted to trails, I was able to go off on my own and get away from the crowds.

I did not think that anything would be worth our time after the Lagos, but Covadonga proved a worthy contender. At the base of the mountains, this cave with a church built right into it was the site of first Asturian King's victory against the Arab troops, and the beginning of the Reconquest. Lots of mystery surrounds the site, as it is fabled that an image at the Virgin appeared to the Christian soldiers before their battle. At the base of the cave, there is a fountain with special powers. If one is able to drink from all seven faucets without taking a breath, they will find love in their lives, or be married within the year if they have love. It was fun to watch people try and do it, but I steered clear of that thing... no thank you! There was also a beautiful cathedral closeby, which was fun to walk in and smell the old air. It contrasted nicely to the fresh mountain air.

After that, we were exhausted and slept the whole bus-ride home. Tomorrow we are going kayaking at a town we passed today. Later in the evening, the Germans invited us to a BBQ, so that should be fun. I can't wait to have some REAL meat that is not-ham! Hope all is well, and thanks for bearing with this long post...those of you who made it anyway. :)

Two Treatises on Language...or three

I have no been studying in a foreign country for three weeks and would like to note a few things about language.

#1: Language doesn't exist. Either that or it varies more than the mood of a woman with PMS. In first grade geography, they teach you: "What language do they speak in Latin America and Spain?" and when you answer "Spanish," the teacher smiles at you and gives you a gold star because on the surface this is true. But take a Spaniard and place him in the heart of Peru and just see how easily he gets by. Even within a country such as Spain, this idea of the uniformity of language doesn't exist. Since each province feels a loyalty to their own self rather than the idea of a unified Spain, they each speak their own variation of Spanish. Catalunya in Northern Spain (with Barcelona) is perhaps the best example of this with their native Catalan and almost disgust for Castilian Spanish. Even within Castilian, the Galicians have their own words as well as the Asturians. Anyone from Mexico knows that frijoles is a delicious dish of black beans, but to a Spaniard frijoles means Mexican beans and regular beans are acaroles, and frEjoles are green beans, but that's only here in the Asturias. Confusing, no?

One of our first days of class, I was explaining something about a car and I called it carro, which is a perfectly acceptable thing to call a car... in America! My German class-mate, however, did not think so, as he adamantly insisted that it was a false cognate and that I should say coche. The truth is they are both right. They are even both Spanish. Carro is just the americanized version of the signifier, but it is still widely used throughout Latin America. Does the fact that it is not a Spain word make it any less Spanish? I have no idea!

#2: Translation doesn't exist. In my criticism class last year, we read a widely-recognized scholar by the name of Walter Benjamin, who wrote a paper called "The Task of the Translator." Within it, he destroyed and reworked the concept of translation. Largely, translation has been considered an art in itself. When translating a metaphor or a poem, the translator finds a different comparison within the language that effectively accommodates the ideas. An example of this is the popular expression "It's a small world," which is commonly used when you stumble upon your great aunt's son-in-law's dog in a strange locale. A Spanish version of this popular phrase is El mundo es un panuelo, which literally means "The world is a napkin." How does a napkin relate to finding relations in a world of nearly 7 billion people? I have no idea. But for that matter what does the concept of the Earth's size have anything to do with it? Benjamin advocates for translating an expression literally to more effectively show the distinctions and subtleties of language, even if meaning is erased. However, there are times where this can get you into trouble, which I discovered in Madrid on my worst day ever! I was trying to explain to a man at a Tapestry Factory that I wanted to come in because I had time to kill before my bus left. Without even thinking about it, I translated the idiom literally, and by the blanched look on his face he thought I meant I had time to kill. Needless to say, I was not welcomed with open arms into the Tapestry place.

#3: Learning a foreign language helps you understand your own better. Much research has been conducted in this area, none of which I have read, but I can say from personal experience that I understand a little better how English works by using Spanish as a point of contrast. I would even go so far as to say that learning a foreign language helps you understand THAT language better. Try to have a native speaker explain the subjunctive tense, and you will never understand it EVER. They have used it their whole lives and it only makes sense when it works and when it doesn't. But in English, where such a tense does not even exist, it takes years even decades to understand when and why it is necessary. Because of this, having a native English-speaker explain it is so much more easy and helpful.

Ayayay, there is so much to say about this. I haven't even touched on points 4, 5, and 6, probably because I don't know what they are yet. Sorry for this long diatribe. I guess this post kind of reflects the mellow day we have had here. Tomorrow is the big festival in Gijon with the fireworks and music, so that should be exciting. Over and out!

First Excursion

Hello all! Long time no write. Sorry about that; things have been so busy... Let's recount the events of our first excursion last Saturday to the sights of Western Asturias!

We all piled into two large buses at the bright hour of 10:30am and headed to the pre-roman ruins of Castro de Coana. Castro literally means "ruins" and although they are uncertain of what group exactly constructed the stone village, they do know it that was between the 1st and 2nd century CE. Pretty darn old. At first all you see is a pile of stones, but upon closer inspection (and enlightenment from a guide) you see the strategic layout of the village with circular stone huts centered around plaza and corral and baths, even habitations for the sick, off yonder. Of course you must imagine that back in the day they were much taller, and had thatched roofs, and people and all, but its pretty cool to see something that is older than anything you can even imagine. (Q: Why do so many Spanish people have red hair? A: From their Celtic roots!)

Our second stop was the seaside village of Luarca. Luarca had beautiful stretch of beach with water so blue, it was unlike anything you can find on the Oregon coast even though we have roughly the same climate. We climbed up a hill to a stone cemetery and chapel that was all completely white (like Gondor, but for the dead), which made a lovely contrast with the blue of the ocean. I wanted so badly to be able to capture it all in one picture, but this was impossible because of its grandiosity. So here are two. Also say hello to Emily and Casey, mis amigos.
Our final stop on the trip was a smaller fishing village called Cudillero. This village featured the popular architectural style of layered multi-colored buildings tucked into the side of a mountain that ran right into the ocean. It was something you would associate more with the French or Italian Riviera, but is actually in Spain too. The kids on the bottom right were sliding down the boat ramp into the sea on algae. It was cute. We didn't stay in Cudillero for long because to be honest there wasn't much to do, and we had to prepare for the Aspicha!

So the Aspicha is a traditional Asturian fiesta that means "welcome party," and as we were all coming to Oviedo to study Spanish from the four corners of the world, it only made sense that we would have one. The traditional Aspicha celebrates the first opening of the cidra kegs in the fall (Ah! A test to see who remembers my blog about cidra! it's the apple "cider"). It kinda reminded me of the Festival of Bacchus the wine god because there is unlimited food and drink and everyone gorges themselves and talks loudly and listens to bagpipes... all in general merriment. I did not know I was a fan of bagpipes, in fact I rather thought I hated them, but listening to these two musicians blend and harmonize the traditional Asturian songs was so beautiful... it was the only thing that could make me stop eating! The food was also delicious, and although it had its fair share of ham and fried squid, there was some tasty empenada and about twenty different variations of potatoes and cheese. Every time I thought they were done, the camareros would bring out ANOTHER full plate of food, which of course I had to try. To drink, there was the aspicha (poured on high and spilled ALL OVER) and sangria and vino tinto. This, they also brought out in great abundance which brings me to my next point of discussion: The Ugly American.

Now within the program, there are a fair share of Oregon students who did not come to Spain to learn Spanish or experience culture. They came to drink. Granted, it is understood that everyone goes a little nuts at Aspicha, but some of our group members made me turn my head in complete embarrassment. You know the stereotype of the drunk American who only comes to Europe to party? Not only do they fulfill that, they adopt it willingly. One girl stumbled around with a bottle of wine in her hand and was drinking so much her mouth turned purple. Later, she could be found doing the worm across the cidra-filled floor. Another girl was wearing a skirt so short that when she bent over... (fill in the blank). Another girl got on her knees and had her friend pour sangria into her mouth from the pitcher until a waiter had to tell them to stop. And the Italians, the Germans, the Australians (and more than a few Americans) were disgusted. I wanted to say: "Look, were not all like this" but it seemed better to just disassociate at that point. It wasn't even like they drank a little too much and acted stupid; the stuff they were doing was so deliberate and conscious and really gives Americans a bad rep.

This week there is a biiiiig fiesta week here in the Asturias. There is a holiday on Friday and a huge firework show and even a bullfight in Gijon to celebrate a local saint. I am excited. And with that, I leave you with some Aspicha fun!

An Asturian Adventure

I have found my new favorite activity in the Asturias: hiking. Yesterday I walked up a big hill trying to find a well-know park, but instead I found a great view of the city and surrounding countryside. I enjoyed the walk so much, and the chance to be out in the cool air, that I naturally jumped at the opportunity to go hiking after class today with some friends from the dorm.

We took a short train to a nearby town, and began walking to find the trail. Apparently on the hikes they have done so far, there has been no signs or markings for the trails whatsoever, so we were quite surprised to find a clear trailhead and even a map. This hike was quite legit! It was called Carrera de Casteo and was a 15 kilometers (about four hours en total). It climbed the hills and valleys of the Asturias to reveal breath-taking panoramic views of the beautiful country homes, clustered towns, and abundant greenery. I loved the hiking air, which smelled like hay and cold and freshness, and is the same everywhere. It wound through quite a bit of farmland, which aroused much laughter among us over the different mannerisms of the farm animals here: the dogs either ignore or bark viciously at you, while the horses run up playfully to get petted on the nose. There was rumors of an ancient Roman bridge nearby; we never found it, but it was entertaining to declare "Ah, behold, the great pre-romanesque bridge that has withstood the test of time!" to every wooden creek-crossing we came to.

Gradually, we made our way up to a GIANT rock resembling a mummy. At its base the trail hung left and we headed into some "rough hiking." Now please understand that this trail had thusfar gone from well-paved road to gravel road to dirt road to no road at all, and back again, all with very friendly and well-marked signs. So when it took a turn away from the nice road, we followed it dutifully thinking nothing of it. Branches were closing in, thorns were scraping, but this was just a rough patch, right? I had remembered thinking as I looked at the plants, "Gee, that kinda looks like stinging nettle" but a lot of plants look like stinging nettle, and this was Spain after all; it could have been anything. It wasn't until we were waist deep in thick brush that I started to feel a burning sensation on my legs. It seemed to hit us all like a ton of bricks. All of a sudden, people were swearing and yelling as we brushed against those DEVIL plants and the pain sunk in. We kept yelling to Zach to turn around, but he insisted that we just had to get through it.

Stinging nettle, btw, is awful. I have had the fortune to never fall victim to poison oak so I do not know its effects, but I had no idea a plant, A FREAKING PLANT, could do that to you. Burning pain immediately upon contact, blood rushing to the surface, and boils breaking out all over your body... I even got off lucky as I had jean capris on, and only got a small bit on my ankles. I felt very sorry for Zach, who blazed the trail, and Emily, who wore shorts. They got the worst of it. As people were swearing and crying in pain, a very chaotic series of events began to unfold quite rapidly. First, Jana decided that this was too much to handle and she would jump over the barbed-wire fence into the horse pasture nextdoor. I decided to follow suit. Emily decided to get un-stuck from the blackberry bush that had her hair caught in several places. Zach decided to come back and see if the pasture would be a good idea. At that moment, Jana and I jumped back over the barbed-wire fence as a male bull was coming toward us. We knew there was probably no danger, but I was wearing red, and again, it is Spain... Sam and Zach decided that there was no danger from the bull and hopped over to see if the trail improved above. And then the funniest thing happened. Pardon a bit of "low humor" here, but this was too funny to not mention. If Chaucer can pull it off, then so can I. There was also a friendly white horse in the pasture, and as Zach jumped down, the horse got spooked and ran away letting out the longest fart I have ever heard in my life. Zach turned around and said, "That horse just ripped!" and we took a brief moment to laugh hysterically in midst of the situation.

It took quite a bit of fence-hopping and trespassing to make it to a decent part of the trail, but it resumed as usual with its ever-helpful signs and arrows. It seemed funny that so well-marked a trail could have so treacherous a stretch to it, but as Sam mentioned, that nettle could be the product of just a month, and it IS the beginning of the vacation month here. We may have been the first ones on that trail for a while. Overall, it was absolutely beautiful and really fun. When we got home, we took quick showers and headed out for pizza and beer. It was well-deserved. The stinging has faded to an annoying tingling, but paired with the mosquito bites I have grown accustomed to ignoring sensations on my skin. Hopefully, it will go away soon. It was a fun adventure, but now I am exhausted, so goodnight all!

When in Spain

Apparently I look Spanish. Several of the girls have talked about how traveling in Spain is difficult because they often receive weird looks and less-than-friendly exchanges even though some of them are native speakers! I piped in that I had not been on the receiving end of any hostility, however mild, and that everyone has been perfectly kind and helpful. The Spanish even go so far as to ask me directions and questions of clarification randomly on the street. This has prompted me to wonder what part of me with luggage in tow and map/camera in hand does not scream absolute tourist. One girl Jessica took a long look at me and declared that my short stature, pale skin, curly hair, and facial features all combine to make me appear, at least APPEAR, Spanish. Of course the minute I open my mouth, the cat is out of the bag. But hey, I'm not complaining. I fit in!

Today was the first day of class, and it relieved any worry in my mind that this would be even slightly difficult at all. We only have class from 9:30 am to 1 pm, and from 1-2 there is a module option for conversation, movie, art & history, or business. The Spanish professors are all very chill and funny, a lot like Eugene professors, and class goes by really fast with games and convo. In our class, we have several of us norteamericanos, along with some Germans, Australians, English, one Italian, one Cambodian, and some girls from a place I had never heard of that is Eastern Mediterranean. It is kinda cool that Spanish is all we have in common because it forces us to use it even after class.

After class we had our "walking tour of Oviedo" with the art history professor. We went to the catedral, walked around the Old Quarter, and drank cidra, which is not as sweet as hard cider, but tastes more like an appley beer. They pour it waaaaaaaay over their heads like the Spanish coffee at Huber's in Portland. The waiters make such a show of it, and look into your eyes rather than at the bottle or the glass. Apparently it absolutely MUST be poured this way, so we all took turns unfortunately spilling most of our cidra :(. After you pour, you must drink the whole thing in one gulp, and empty the remains on the ground. I forget why this is, but I am thinking its an ashes to ashes kinda thing. Here are five things you didn't know about cathedrals (or maybe you did): 1) There is only one in every town. 2) They all face east. Why east? Jerusalem is east. 3) They are built with the money of the townspeople, not the church. 4) They are modeled like a body: head, arms, torso. and, 5) They have relics. The Cathedral in Oviedo is famous for its relics, which include a cross the Asturian king used when he rode into battle against the Moors, a cloth with the face of La Virgen, Jesus' used nappy, etc, etc.

I am finding it very easy to adapt to the Spanish lifestyle. It suddenly makes an incredible amount of sense to eat a big lunch after class, and take a siesta to sleep it off. Why on earth wouldn't I eat dinner at 10:30 pm with the elderly and families alike, and go out with friends after? In America, the nightlife gets started around 8, and by 1am bars are closing up shop and people are dragging themselves back to bed. But in Spain, if you arrive at a bar at midnight, they literally have to turn the lights on for you... Extrano, no? That being said, I am off to dinner!

Holy Toledo!

This phrase actually comes from the strong Jewish population that thrived in Toledo. Like Granada, Toledo is a cultural melting pot that was at one time or another occupied by Visi-goths, Muslims, Christians, Jews (or Sefardi) and Roma, oftentimes together in relative peace and harmony. That did not last for long, so the story goes. Toledo is a city on a hill... probably one of the only hills in Spain. They say that everything is uphill, and it certainly feels that way. It is surrounded on three sides by the Tejo River, and the third side still has remnants of a Muslim wall constructed to keep those Christians out. (These walls were apparently more popular than they were successful). There are remnants of each civilization in Toledo, such as an old Roman aqueduct, the Muslim wall, Sefardi synagogue, and Christian Cathedral, which is huuuuuuge. I know I keep saying this, but they keep getting bigger and bigger. I remember the first cathedral I saw in Madrid was the Catedral de San Jeronimo and it nearly took my breath away. Well, that cathedral is a camping hut compared to the one in Toledo. Because of its history as the ancient capital of Madrid, no modern architecture is allowed within the city walls, which gives Toledo a very preserved quality. The controversial McDonald's in the Plaza Zocodover was only allowed one tiny arch to allow for this authenticity.

In Toledo, I took a very touristy train (picture Thunder Mountain in Disneyland, but without tracks) into the surrounding hills to get some better views of the city. I sat next to an older Canadian couple who were astonished to find that I was traveling alone, and decided to "take me under their wing" so to speak. They were quite nice, but I parted with them in the Cathedral, preferring my solitude in such a regal and jaw-dropping space. I ate a partridge and bean stew and tinto de verano (summer wine) at a Rick-Steves-approved restaurant, and headed to a "Exhibicion de Antiguos Instrumentos de Tortura" (Ancient Instruments of Torture!). Not only did it exhibit some of the gnarliest torture devices, but it provided a helpful English commentary into the Inquisition and the ways they used torture to extract information BEFORE sentencing... as if sitting in a spike-covered chair wasn't enough! One device used for drunkards involved carrying a heavy vat filled with water around, which reminded me uncannily of my backpack. I then visited the Sefardi Museum and Santa Cruz (big art museum with lots of El Greco's), but didn't fully enjoy these for lack of time. I bought some delicious Marzapan, which is the dessert of Toledo made from almonds and sugar and some jams...quite tasty!

Since then, I have traveled to Oviedo, settled in my room, met the other Oregon folk, and been orientated... suffice to say a lot has happened. Everyone seems really nice, which relieves me immensely. We all went out for food and drink last night, and it was fun to actually be around people again! In the middle of the night, my bathroom-mate, who is a dude I had not yet met, came bursting through my room, which scared the crap out of me. I shrieked, and he apologized claiming he thought no one was there, which I don't quite understand since my stuff was already in our communal bathroom. We have worked out a system so that this does not happen again.

Although I had a wonderful week of travel, I am happy to be in Oviedo. The traveler alone must constantly be aware of where she is, where she is going, where her luggage is, where her luggage is going... Being in a group has allowed me the luxury to sit back and follow the crowd, pass through already open doors, and eat at well-recommended eateries. The downside to this that I have no idea where anything in Oviedo is, but I am excited to learn it at a slower pace. Oviedo is the principal city in the province of Asturias. Asturias, unlike the majority of Spain, was never conquered by the Muslims so it does not have the traditional "Spanish" feel. Its historical influences are Celtic, Gothic, and Christian, meaning babpipes and cidra (alcoholic cider) are more popular than bull-fights, flamenco, and hot sun. It was the place where the Reconquest began, and is attributed with being the "origins of Spain," ironically enough. It is rather chilly here, and the rain and greenery remind me a lot of Oregon, which is a happy thought. We will be going to excursions so some of the surrounding natural beauty and ruins. I am excited to hike near mountains and lakes. We watched a video showing the sites in this natural-park and it was set to bag-pipe music... seriously it seemed more Irish than Spanish. I know understand what the people meant when they said this place was "different," but I am excited to become better-acquainted with it during the next month.

OH!-- and you know how I kept whining and complaining that I was going to be gone for SIX WHOLE MONTHS!!..? Well, I was talking to a girl who is doing the same thing and she said..."You do realize it's only five months, right?" And I counted the months out on my fingers and realized that yes! It's only five! Four and a half, to be more specific! Which is very tolerable, and not scary at all.

Some photos!

Have a look!