Four Months in Spain

I feel a bit lonely tonight walking back to my single-again room near the río Tormes in the piso I've come to know as home for the last four months. The streets are nearly empty, a nearly 180º change from some of the last minute shoppers braving the weather over the weekend. I'm enjoying the peaceful walk home, despite the chill, admiring the almost excessive number Christmas decorations littering the alleys and hanging rather dauntingly above the streets. At least "severe weather" is not in the vocabulary here.
My host family, Concha and Lourdes, left for the US last week on Monday night -- an old student of theirs got married this weekend and they were invited to the wedding. It was Concha's first time off the peninsula, so I'm glad she got to go. Her sister came in from the pueblo to babysit the three of us the rest of the week. At first it was really weird to be in their house without them, but her sister is similarly mannered and talks just as much so it's not too different.
Thursday night marked probably the single biggest party night I've experienced here. First Clancey and I went over to San Boal -- the international courses building -- for an open bar and some tapas. I think we had a bit more than our fair share of the champagne, but I blame Clancey since the camarero seemed to have quite the crush on her and made sure our cups were never empty. Then there was the Noche Vieja celebration (New Years' Eve Party) in the Plaza Mayor at midnight -- for some reason they celebrate it a few weeks early for all the students. After crowding into the plaza, past the police checkpoints (I'm not really sure what they were checking for though...), we huddled under the clock with the rest of the salmantinos waiting for midnight to come. After that there was the Facultad de Sociales bash (each department at the university hosts a party throughout the year) which coaxed most of the rest of the students out for remainder of the night. Needless to say I didn't get much sleep before escorting Clancey to the bus in the morning with all of her crap. I exchanged some teary.eyed goodbyes with her, Elizabeth, Jaycie and Colby before they climbed aboard for the 6am departure. It's weird to say goodbye to people I've known for such a short time -- I actually think I might miss them (ok I admit I will). Friday passed rather uneventfully, and Anna left early Saturday morning to go back to Germany. The rest of the weekend it's just been Tía and me. And now I'm leaving tomorrow.
No real revelations here, sorry, just some unanticipated sappiness -- I don't think it will hit me until I'm in the airport that I've actually left Salamanca for more than just another weekend trip in Europe. As ready as I feel to come home, I don't know how ready I am to actually leave. I only hope that I don't forget everything I've learned here and how much I've grown.

Again, it's been a while since I last wrote you all. Sorry, but things have actually started to get a bit busy around here. Not that I'm complaining, mind you. I apologize in advance for the rather superficial accounts to follow, but I wanted to get this out before I leave for Sweden and have more to tell. So here goes.

Less than one week after getting back from Morocco (and still not feeling myself), we had an ISA Group Excursion to Granada and the Alhambra -- which is supposedly Europe's third most visited tourist attraction. It's hard to believe that until you see the complex in all its glory. Had I not spent 36 hours trapped on a bus less than a week before, I wouldn't have minded the sleep deprivation. But as it is, I went ahead and enjoyed myself. We left early Friday morning, November 11, and made it into Granada by around 4PM. The city itself is nestled in the foothills of the Sierra Nevada, which were already snow-capped, adding to the sort of wintery atmosphere. In an effort to cancel out hours of sedentary half-consciousness, Clancey and I tried to go for a run before heading out later. Unfortunately there were really no parks to be found near our hotel and we didn't end up getting very far before surrendering to the crowds, stoplights and traffic. After some wandering about the plaza (I'm pretty sure every city in Spain has one), we met up with the rest of the group (all 50 of us) to hike up to a real live cave-bar to see some Flamenco. I can't think of a better way to spend a Friday night than wandering around a foreign town with an obnoxious mob of Americans. Anyway, the show was pretty good -- there were two groups of three dancers each, and it was pretty high energy. But I was pretty exhausted from the weeks travels and looked forward to getting into bed that night. Saturday we spent all morning and most of the afternoon touring the Alhambra -- which essentially consists of a variety of Muslim Palaces, temples and homes as well as some pretty sweet botanical gardens. Unfortunately the flowers weren't exactly blooming in November, but it was still pretty. And the view of the city was also gorgeous. It really was huge, and difficult to describe -- but pictures would help. You can find them here.

The following weekend my friend Monica, or Ziggy, came up from Córdoba to hang out and help me tear up Salamanca. Since every night is a party night in this college town, we went straight from the train station after midnight to one of the local hot-spots near the Plaza Mayor: O'Hara's, where we met up with Clancey and her friends Colby and Dan. A couple of pints of Paulaner later, we headed over to another popular (American) hangout: Jacko's. The bar is actually sort of a tribute to Michael Jackson, with all kinds of weird memorabilia hanging up. But once you get over the initial shock that he's still considered an "idol" someplaces, the place is pretty fun (and serves beer and mixed drinks by the liter!). Needless to say, we didn't make it back home until early Friday morning, and when I woke up the next day it was without a voice. The next two days we spent wandering the town, seeing all the tourist sites (mostly Cathedrals and the university buildings), shopping, eating, and doing the Salamanca thing, though with less enthusiasm than we had on Thursday night...
After the carefree weekend with Ziggy, it was back to reality for both of us -- mine includes a ton of work before the end of the term, and with a chunk of time spent in Sweden there's not much left to really get all of it done. So the madness starts.

Natalie Portman was in town during the week to shoot scenes of for an upcoming movie "Goya's Ghost." They used the second largest cathedral in town -- San Esteban, and really brought in the circus: horses, all kinds of trailers and trucks, movie people, support people -- it was a zoo. But for the most part, the Salmantinos passed by relatively unimpressed. Definitely would not have been the case in a small town in the US, but that sort of detachment and disregard for celebrity is really part of what makes Spain (and Europe) so cool.

Thanksgiving weekend, my last "free" weekend in Spain (already, I can't believe it!), I decided I would have to sacrifice some work time and make the trip to Barçelona -- after all I would be disappointed to return home without having seen and experienced it. And I'm so glad I did (even despite the two 10-hour overnight bus trips)! I got into the city around 6:30AM on Friday, dropped my stuff off at the hostel and was back on the Metro headed to Gaudi's Sagrada Familia by 9. I spent about two hours climbing the towers, wandering around inside the enormous cathedral, and checking out the rather un-traditional sacred symbols and mosaics all over the place. A work in progress for over 100 years, there were no less than 5 cranes on location to facilitate the progress. At least it looked like they were getting things done. Intrigued by Gaudi's innovative design tactics, I headed over to see some of his other projects, including La Pedrera (or Casa Mila) and Casa Batlló -- both of which had distinctly Gaudi characteristics -- and definitely stood out from their surroundings. More mosaics and oddly shaped protrusions decorated the outside, with more tile, stained glass and weirdly designed rooms inside. Sort of reminded me of a gingerbread house with all kinds of different candies stuck on the roof -- and the inside looked sort of runny, like someone left it in the oven too long and it melted a bit but still resembled the traditional shape. On my way to the Barri Gotic I stopped to indulge in some Starbuck's -- and I hate to admit the sort of comforting feeling of a "normal" American coffee shop that I got from the corporate giant. I'm not proud of it, but it was damn good! (So good, I did it twice the next day). Later that evening I came across the Picasso Museum while wandering around in the Gothic Quarter and had enough time to thoroughly enjoy the place before it closed for the night. Honestly, I am really not an "art person," but I do have an appreciation for the artist who painted the Guernica (from the Spanish Civil War which preceded WWI) and said the painting could not return to Spain until the country was returned to the people (not a dictatorship). Besides that, he has some pretty cool paintings and ceramic works displayed there. Most of which, of course, done in his signature distorted style. But I did think it was funny that he painted smiley faces on the suns of his ceramic plates -- and I thought I was just being creative in my remedial drawings. After the museum I took a stroll down by the main seaport and took in more monuments and strange sculptures.
The second day I walked -- a lot. And by a lot I mean miles -- maybe 15. I took the metro toward Gaudi's famous Park Guell (and had to walk another 20 minutes from the stop to get to the park), and wandered up and around and all over in the eclectic reserve. Amazing views of Barçelona and the Mediterranean on a clear day -- definitely priceless. But you'll have to see the pictures. Words really don't do it justice. Stop number 2 of the day was Montjuic, way up above the shipyard and right on the coast -- kind of reminded me of the cliffs in La Jolla. From about halfway up, where the bus dropped us off, I hiked the rest of the way to the top of the small "mountain," through parks, gardens and lookout points up to the castle and along its edge. There was a really remarkable amount of green space within the walls, and there were several older men playing a sort of tennis version of raquetball (outdoors and without the side walls and roof) in a group of four. No idea how that works -- but it just looked to me like they were hitting the ball as hard as they could in an effort to reaffirm their supreme masculinity. There were also some kids playing soccer, and another small group of people using the archery range (which really takes you back a couple centuries). I was constantly taking off and putting on layers with the warm sun and chilly seabreeze, but at least it didn't rain. I spent pretty much the entire day wandering around the mountain, eventually making it over to the Olympic Stadium and surrounding complex, through more botanic gardens and past more museums until six hours later when I found myself back in the city near the Plaza Espanya. I finally sat down on a bench (tired, hungry and cranky -- not necessarily in that order) to rest and recollect myself. Again, check out the pictures -- they're much more descriptive than I can be at the moment.
I think that about wraps things up for the moment. I'm off to Sweden (my last adventure abroad) on Thursday, and have just three weeks here before I come back. So go ahead and start the countdown, if you must.

So we made it back, finally, from the Morocco trip early Monday morning (November 7). In spite of all the travel time, the excursion was an absolute blast. I don't know if anything I say can actually explain how amazing it is there, but that won't stop me from trying.

Tuesday morning we met up with the rest of the ISA group in Sevilla to board a couple of buses and head for Gibraltar where we caught a ferry across the Mediterranean to Ceuta (an autonomous community of Spain in Africa). From Ceuta we had to cross the border into Morocco -- we spent just over two hours sitting on a bus near the coast waiting to get our passports stamped and get through the gate. Unfortunately there was a very hungover member of the Sevilla group that left his passport at home -- this would turn out to be a huge pain in the butt in trying to get through the checkpoints. Once we made it to the other side, we could start enjoying some of the gorgeous scenery between the beaches and mountains on the northern coast. We drove past haimas (tents) where families lived just off the main road, past gorgeous resorts, and through dense villages with stucco buildings that looked as if they'd been there forever. The only modern features happened to be a sparse array of satellite dishes atop some of the buildings in town and some power lines along the way. It was almost like stepping back in time. Once into the mountains and heading south, we stopped for a "technical break" (or for food and restrooms) in a tiny commercial spot hugging the two lane road up the mountain. This marked our first run in with the infamous "squatters" (or a ceramic hole in the ground)-- quite a rude awakening, but I'll leave the details to your imagination. Luckily we didn't have to use those very often throughout the rest of the trip. We finally made it to the Hotel Menzeh Zalagh where we would spend the next two nights. We had our first authentic taste of Moroccan cuisine -- salad (cucumbers and lettuce), some cold vegetables (tomatoes) and spicy vegetable dishes, pasta with tuna, an assortment of beef and fish and fresh pomegranates.

The next morning we got up for a jam packed day of touring in Fes -- the intellectual, religious and handicraft capital of Morocco (according to our guide). Our first stop of the day was at the Seven Doors of the 300-acre enclosed Royal Palace, representing each day of the week. Rumor has it that knocking on the main door three times will grant you a wish. Anything's worth a try once.
We reboarded the bus for the Medina de Fés -- the oldest and largest market in all of northern Africa, built around the Seventh Century A.D. There are over 9,000 streets winding up, around and through the area, and over 300 mosques within the Medina as well. Definitely possible to get lost inside the Medina for days and even weeks. We stopped at our first "souk" (a type-specific market), where many different wool dealers were concentrated and competing for their share of the market. Since Moroccans speak primarily Bereber, French and/or Arabic, our mastery of the Spanish language didn't get us very far. Another important word we learned was "balak" -- which means "attention" or "excuse me" -- used to notify pedestrians of either a large cart or a packed donkey coming their way. The quicker the reaction to this word the better. Besides dodging donkey and other animal dung on the uneven cobblestone alleys, we tried to take in all the sights, sounds and smells. In one small square there were a bunch of turkeys and roosters rather calmly laying on the ground, with their feet bound, waiting to be bartered off to some locals for the post-Rhamadan feast. Also learned here that only the poor people eat meat from white chickens as they are said to lack the flavor or quality of meat from darker chickens. Makes you want to rethink the concept of Golden Plump... Another memorable stop was the Quarayouine (prounounced "care-o-ain") Mosque turned University, which was absolutely gorgeous. We went to a Bereber rug co-op to listen to our first presentation of many about the history, tradition and symbology of the amazing hand-woven carpets. Omar (the head of the shop) was pretty set on getting me to take a few home (for a mere 3,000€) -- lucky for my college fund, I said no. Next we headed to a "pharmacy" where there were all kinds of natural products: cosmetics, spices, home remedies and cures. After an enthusiastic demonstration of the various substances and uses, we made our way through more windy streets to a tannery. We climbed three flights of steep stairs to the rooftop terrace of the building to get a view of the cleaning and conditioning process of the leather -- grabbing a boquet of mint leaves on our way up to help stifle the smell of shit (literally). One of the workers at the shop advised us to fold a mint leaf and put it up our nostril, which we all quickly did. He then explained that as part of the process, the pelts were soaked in pigeon droppings (that apparently make them softer or something). It was pretty disgusting. But the end results were much less offensive, and even pretty -- belts, shoes, purses, hassocks, folders, wallets, etc. After a really laid back lunch at a Moroccan Restaurant (of course), they brought us to a metalwork shop displaying impressive works in copper, bronze, and silver; tea pots, serving trays, jewelry, and the like. Another shop that was mostly out of my price range. Only men were working in every single shop that we passed -- there was just one shop out of the thousands we passed where two women worked: cooking, of course. A bit tough to get used to, but I guess you have to expect a lot of differences heading into an older and more traditional culture. Before heading back to the hotel for the night, we stopped to catch a glimpse of the "Blue Gate" on the outside of the Medina and snap some pictures.

On Thursday we managed to get up fairly early and start our day of travel toward the Sahara Desert. We made a couple of stops along the way, and pulled over in the Middle Atlas mountains to try and see some monkeys. No luck though. We made it to Arfoud at dusk, unloaded the buses, and then packed ourselves into about 15 Land Rovers for the hour-long trek further into the desert where we would spend the next two nights. There was something really liberating about driving without any restrictions or lanes, in the pitch black, only able to see what your headlights reveal right out in front of you. Our driver got us toward the head of the group and we stopped along the way to check out the amazing view of the stars and night sky -- we caught a glimpse of the Milky Way, Mars and lots of constellations while we waited for the other jeeps to catch up with us. Finally we pulled into "Tumbuktu" -- a sort of all in one hotel/campsite/restaurant/desert experience complete with camels sort of resort. I'm not sure really what to call it. There were probably at least 50 haimas (or tents) set up, with room for 3-4 people each. We settled into one and then sat out on the huge patio sipping more Green Mint Tea (or "Whiskey Marroquís" as the locals call it) and waited for dinner -- another traditional meal: spicy with some sort of meat. Go figure.

Friday morning finally came, and after a not so hearty breakfast, we got ourselves some turbans to help shield at least our faces and necks from the blistering desert sun. Then it was time to hop on our camels for a little ride over to a nearby village. Now, I know I just rode my first four-legged animal in September, but this was a lot tougher! There are no stirrups, and the camels are too tall for you to just climb up from the ground -- so in order to get on, the camel lays on the ground and then stands up with you on it. Now that doesn't sound too bad, except for the fact that it can't stand up all at once, and starts with its back legs so you almost fall off the front, and then the front legs -- you just have to pay attention and hold on. We went for a camel's version of a walk, which is actually slow enough for the guides to keep up walking at a normal pace. Sort of makes you feel lazy when you can walk faster than your method of transportation, but we did it for the experience. And I'm glad the camel didn't do much more than stroll, since that was awkward and bumpy enough. After about an hour we made it to the village and I managed to get off of the camel without falling -- unlike a couple of other girls who were not so lucky. A guide took us through the "gardens" and showed us their irrigation system -- which is neat considering there are no pipes and they're in the middle of nowhere. Then they split us up into groups and took us to a few different family-run shops throughout the village for more presentations and shopping. It was a holiday for them since Rhamadan had just ended the night before, so there were children out playing everywhere. There were a pack of boys on bicycles riding around and trying to speak to us in French -- they were quite polite and silly, but I had no idea what they were saying. We had a long look around at more Bereber rugs and other handicrafts: ceramic bowls, leather, jewelry, etc. I'm glad we did some shopping here as it seemed as though the people could use whatever income they could come by. On the way to lunch, our group leader asked a 12 year old boy to walk us about 3/4 of a mile to the home we ate at while he took a motorbike and literally left us in his dust. Lunch consisted of Bereber Pizza -- basically a much larger version of pita bread with meat and vegetables inside the pocket. It was interesting, and definitely not my favorite meal. Afterwards we had to re-board the camels to get back to our campsite for the night. I hiked up and over the sand dunes for about an hour until I got to the top of one of the highest ones with a spectacular view of the rest of the dunes behind it. After 15km of dunes, there's a "black desert" that essentially acts as the border between Morocco and Algeria -- it would have been cool to see the black sand, but I was tired enough. Walking through the fine red sand is much harder than it looks, let me tell you. Fortunately for me, the sandstorm waited until I was back at the bar and inside before attempting to blow down our haimas. And it actually rained for a bit while we watched! The first rain there in five years... Wow. Our haimas didn't blow over, but when we went back to check out the damage, we found sand all over and inside everything. It was pretty much imposible to avoid or clean up, so we dealt with it as best we could.

Saturday morning, we found out that others weren't so lucky. A girl from our group, Taylor, got stung by a scorpion in her tent. Maybe that's what you get for streaking through the desert in the middle of the night -- desert retribution? I don't know. That set us back a bit getting packed up into the jeeps for our ride back to Arfoud. Our last stop was at a nomad family's tent, apparent acquantainces of our driver, in the actual middle of nowhere. There were just two parents and their gorgeous 2 year old little boy with big brown eyes and curly dark hair. He spoke to us in French and showed us the camel and "Bereber Bride" figurines they had for sale for 20 Dirhams (or roughly 2 €). More destitute conditions -- their home consisted of a taller shanty (probably their cooking area) and a longer haima similar to the ones we stayed in. I have no idea where they would acquire any sort of supplies (like water or food) since there was nothing nearby and they didn't seem to have any animals for transportation. The little boy seemed unaware of all the flies swarming him as his mother had to intermittently brush her hand across his face to get rid of them. It reminded me of one of those ads for the "Christian Children's Fund" where they show clips of starving children in Africa... except for the starving part I suppose. Anyway, we finally made it in our jeep back to Arfoud where we transferred ourselves, our belongings and new purchases back into the buses and started our 8 hour drive North to Meknés. Once we made it out of the desert, and now back in the Atlas Mountains, we stopped at a deserted, run down, emaciated building for a "picnic lunch." No more than 5 minutes after we grabbed a bag lunch and started to dig in, a bunch of kids crawled out from who knows where and started scavenging for extra food. Out of the 75 of us, they must have ended up with at least four plastic grocery bags full of our half-eaten sandwiches, fruit and water. Another 2 hours later we stopped to try our luck again with the monkeys -- this time the effort was much more fruitful. They seemed to be everywhere: in the trees and running around or hanging out on the ground. I tried to get some action shots, but I'm pretty sure they turned out more like fake bigfoot-sighting pictures from the 1970s. But I swear we saw them! After the jam packed day of travel, we were pretty stoked to pull up to our hotel in Meknés: the Rif. After yet another frustratingly disorganized disbursement of keys, we got settled in to our rooms and had some time to take a walk around the town before dinner. Elizabeth (my blonde friend) and I garnered quite a lot more attention here from the locals... unfortunately it mostly consisted of whistling, stares, and a plethora probably rude/lewd comments -- fortunately for me, I don't understand French or Arabic, so it's hard to be legitimately offended. We had one of our best dinners at the Hotel Rif -- more typical Moroccan cuisine, but this time with a variety of sides to add to the meat and cous-cous staples.

Sunday morning we were up bright and early for another long day of travel back to Spain, and Salamanca: 8 hours on the bus, followed by 3 getting on and off the ferry and across the Mediterranean, and another few back to Sevilla. We finally made it back, safe and sound, to Salamanca about 20 hours after we'd left that morning (if you do the math, it's roughly 5AM). Despite all the travelling and time on the bus, plus getting a bug from the food, the trip was amazing and well worth the costs.

Friday morning, or Thursday night depending on your perspective, Clancey (my roommate) and I got up at 3:15AM to catch our 4:30AM bus to Bilbao -- Spain's 6th largest city located near the northern coast near the French border. The bus driver was less than enthusiastic, and we tried to sleep in spite of the multiple stops and unpredictable city traffic on the way. After a sickening 5 1/2 hour trip, we finally pulled in to Bilbao's "Termnibus" station to meet my pal Ziggy. We had some time to wait before our bus to San Sebastián left the same station, and sitting on a bench one of Ziggy's friends from Córdoba just happened to show up. It's weird to see people you "know" around in a different country. Doesn't feel like I should run into anyone remotely familiar unless it's on purpose. The weather in Bilbao when we arrived was pretty nice. A little cloudy, but no imminent threat of rain -- which was nice since it rained in Salamanca all week. The bus trip took us up, down, around and through the mountains for over an hour on the way to the touristy coastal town of Donostia (more commonly known as San Sebastián). It did rain a bit on that leg of the trip, but once we got to San Sebastián the weather was awesome. We arrived, finally, around 12:30 PM, and hiked about a mile and a half from the bus stop to Pension Loinaz, where we would spend the next two nights.
Basque Country seems like an entirely separate part of Spain -- the topography, and even the people, are completely different from the drier, dustier, browner Spanish countryside. Walking up the river to our pension, we could see, smell and even hear Fall. It was fun to crunch through dry leaves on the streets -- a phenomenon most definitely absent from San Diego. After dropping our bags off at the pension, we took a nice leisurely stroll around the bay during the town's siesta. Lucky for us we didn't come during high tourist season in July and August when San Sebastián's population of 170,000 quadruples from visitors -- what a zoo that would be. But it was a bummer that none of us brought bathing suits since the beach and weather was prime for some quality relaxation in the sun.
Later on, after a brief siesta of our own, we scoped out the local shops, people, and bars. Stopping at one Tapas Bar, we finally worked up the courage to sample some of the famous Basque Tapas -- which consisted of a variety of seafood concoctions, modified Spanish Tortilla, and even some tasty veggie samplers. The food was amazing, as expected from what we'd heard, and the sangria also lived up to it's below-par reputation. But it was fun to try so many different foods.
On Saturday morning we got up and trekked all the way to the other side of the bay to the bottom of El Monte Igeldo (Mt. Igeldo), where we took a "funicular" up to the top for some fabulous views of the town and surrounding hills and valleys, as well as the Cantabrian Coastline to the North. Don't worry -- I took lots of pictures. Instead of taking the funicular back down, we headed down the corkscrew road stopping at a lighthouse and for views of some awesome waves, rocks and cliffs. It was another gorgeous day, lucky for us, so we enjoyed the outdoors. We walked through the gardens at Palacio Miramar on our way back toward the center of the city for some lunch and shopping -- we ended up in San Sebastián's Plaza Mayor for bocadillos at a bar. As is European custom, a man approached a table asking for money and was turned down. I noticed him coming towards our table, but he stumbled into a recently abandoned table adjacent to ours and evidently grabbed the money for the bill and took off running. It took a few seconds for me to realize what he'd done, but I was too shocked to chase him down and/or tackle him on the concrete -- which would have been pretty sweet, by the way -- so he made off with the money in spite of all the witnesses. I felt bad for the waiter.
Later on back in our room, as we were getting ready for the night, it started raining. But we did absolutely have to leave to get dinner, so we were going to brave the weather. On our way down the main street of bars and restaurants it started pouring and the streets and alleys cleared up pretty quickly. We ended up in the Centro Comercio (indoor shopping mall) at a small bistro that served a variety of rather "American" appetizers, sandwhiches, and salads -- I think last night was the first time I've had a Caesar salad since July. It was an extraordinary delicacy, since most of the Spanish meals we eat center on some sort of meat -- usually ham, pork, or God knows what other names they have for all the different parts of the pig that they seem to be so keen on in this part of the world.
After the rain stopped we sat outside (luckily under a tarp) to enjoy ice cream, coffee and tea while we people watched and chatted away. A couple of bachelorette parties passed (one bride to be was dressed up in a knock off matador outfit complete with the Mickey Mouse type hat), and another with some silver wig and boots carrying a fake laser gun in a holster around her belt. Pretty weird, but I guess that's par for the course. I think the women are a bit more tame than the men with the pre-wedding/last hurrah festivities.
Sunday morning we got up to catch our bus back to Bilbao where we planned to do some sightseeing, and catch a glimpse of the Frank Ghery's Guggenheim Museum that opened in 1997. We took a tram (more like light rail, and a lot nicer than the Trolley in San Diego) from the bus station to the museum where we stared in awe at the massive builidng, surrounding sculptures, parks, water, and anything else we might be able to take in. The museum is said to have rejuvinated the former booming industrial city of Bilbao, bringing in tourists from all over to see the Guggenheim.
After our brief visit there, we spent the rest of the day trying to find something -- anything really -- to do. Sunday's in Spain can be trying, since the government restricts how many Sunday's a year stores (like retail) can be open -- usually for special weekends or upcoming holidays only. So we had a tough time of it since absolutely nothing here was open. We did manage to find a cafe near the soccer stadium where we had a few bocadillos, but didn't have much time to sit and relax since there were some sketchy characters wandering in and out of the bar. We did some more wandering through the city, watched people playing basketball at a park, and then accidently came upon some of the best entertainment of the day: an obviously drunk 50ish man who'd seemingly wet his pants and was staggering down the path and laughing to himself. So we decided to follow him, but nothing more exciting happened the rest of the day.

So I left off in Madrid at the fútbol game with Ziggy (Monica) and Will...

WEEK OF OCTOBER 3RD - 8TH:

• On Monday there was an eclipse, complete with goofy glasses and weird shaped mirror boxes everywhere. When I got back to Salamanca, I finally met my roommate Clancey, who just so happens to be from White Bear Lake. Small world! She's pretty cool though, and we've been getting along great since she moved in. Aside from both of us being sick.
• Fátima brought me to the clinic ("UCSI Europa" hmm... Regents here too??) on Thursday morning as I had a temperature and was definitely hating life. The doctor took one look at my throat and said I had some crazy virus of the throat, for which he promptly wrote me a prescription and sent me on my way. I spent the rest of that day, and my birthday weekend recouperating. Concha did have cake for me on Friday for lunch, and I went out for coffee and ice cream with my friends later that night, which was fun enough under the circumstances.

WEEK OF OCTOBER 9TH - 16TH:

• Finally feeling better by Monday, I made it to the gym for the first time in over a week. My gym buddy (still don't know what his name is) was concerned and cornered me to make sure I was alright. Kinda funny the random people that you meet around town.
• Wednesday marked Constitution Day/Columbus Day/some other Catholic Holiday... So of course everything was closed again. Not to mention that security precautions were now in full force for the XV Iberoamerican Summit to take place Thursday-Saturday in Salamanca. Anyone who could was encouraged to leave since the place was going to be a zoo... I figured there was no better time to go down to Córdoba to visit Ziggy on her "home turf."
• So Thursday morning I went to catch the bus to the train station... Unbeknownst to me that they'd shifted most of the town's bus stops for security purposes so I missed the first bus, then missed my train by 10 minutes. I ended up being 4 hours later than I expected to meet Ziggy, but I think she forgave me pretty quickly. After dinner at her house, we met for a fiesta with people from her program and their "intercambios" (buddies they get paired up with to practice speaking each other's languages). Let's just say I'm glad I don't have to put up with some of the really obnoxious kids in her program.
• Friday morning we got up early to go to the Castillo de Almodóvar, about 15 minutes outside Córdoba's city center. At the risk of sounding like an elitist, Ziggy an I concluded that some of the kids in her program probably were not "mature" enough to handle a trip abroad for educational purposes. Getting mad that another country is not like the USA is ridiculous. I'll leave it at that. After the field trip, that lasted a little too long in my opinion, we went to a little hole in the wall bar called Santos next to the Mosque in the Judería (Old Town) to sample some of their famous Spanish Tortilla (which consists of eggs and potatoes). After whetting our appetites, Zig, her pals (Marissa, Chris and Cody) and I sought out a "Mexican" Cantina near the river. While the food did not taste like "authentic Americanized Mexican food," I was happy enough to feel the familiar burning sensation you get from too much hot sauce. Later that night, in the mood for a mellow activity, Ziggy and I went to see "Juegos Con Mujeres" with Charlize Theron and Penelope Cruz. I won't spoil it for you, but let's just say that in Spanish the movie sucked.
• On Saturday we headed over to the Judería again, this time to actually tour the old Mosque, in the middle of which the Catholics added a cathedral -- since they didn't want to "disturb" the huge Muslim Temple. The juxtaposition of the two in the same place, especially with the modern religious and cultural conflicts is pretty strange to see. But it was worth the trek over there. We spent the better part of the night sampling "tapas" (Spanish appetizers that you can get free with drinks), and watching a couple of fútbol games. Though I pride myself on my level of cultural understanding, I definitely accidentally ordered some sort of blood-sausage-sandwich for my first tapa. Sick. I still can't get that taste out of my mouth. Later still we met up with more of Ziggy's friends as we bounced from bar to bar. Impressively enough, Chris and Cody managed to top off the night around 3AM with not one, but TWO, kebabs each.
• Sunday morning came, which meant it was time for me to head back to the smaller and less bustling city of Salamanca. I really enjoyed the company and the gorgeous weather in Córdoba though -- it was nice to escape the rain for a bit.

This Week (FINALLY!)...

• Clancey and I both got back from our weekend trips on Sunday afternoon... Anna had managed to pass along the cold she'd acquired over the weekend to both of us, and we've been battling that since.
• In one of my classes we have a "group" project. I have the distinct impression, though, that the only Spanish student (in our group of 5 girls) might be using us international students (from Belgium, France and the States of course) to slide by. She is pretty nice, but I think the Professor is on to her, so we'll see how that works out.
• As has become our ISA Tradition, we met for another Spanish Movie night, and saw the film "7 Vírgenes" which turned out to be kind of a downer. But I think I might have picked up some new slang, so at least I learned something.
• Friday morning Clancey and I leave on a 4:30AM bus to Bilbao, where we'll meet up with Ziggy and spend the weekend exploring the "better" Guggenheim, as well as the beach town of San Sebastián. I'll be sure to let you know how that goes.