What time is it? GAME TIME.

So last week was quite an organized mess. I spent a grand total of 55 hours in Cursos para Extranjeros, re-writing my entire 15 page paper. Amazingly, it was done come closing on Friday, and I very happily turned it in on Monday, so I am officially done with my class at Teatinos (thank god).

Last Thursday, a bunch of us went out for tapas at El Pimpi (a little expensive for tapas on a student budget, but so worth it). The new students were introduced to tinto de verano, and I was introduced to some tapa with meat, tortilla española (I think) and the most delicious peppers ever. The conversations were great, and everyone was warm and happy—it was exactly what being abroad is all about. It just made me so happy I stayed the year, life here is beautiful.

The next night, after two of us stayed 11 straight hours in Cursos, we clearly had to go out. It was a delightful night, we went to a few bars, including a new one called Moët. It was great, and we did a shot of gin, which reminded me why the gin really needs the tonic. On another note, I might have to make a list of ways you know you should branch out from Sangria (purple tongues, and measuring your intake in gallons are two such things). But it was a good night. We talked to some Spanish kids while we were waiting for the bus, and one of them very pointedly turned to me and said “Rubia” and stuck out his hand for a handshake (which is a little unusual here). I thought it was funny, and they were a little vulgar, but entertaining. Plus they taught us some new words.

The weekend didn’t stop there though…we went out again the next night, to meet up with Samya. We watched some carnaval singers dressed up as green aliens that had hilarious songs (okay, I’ll admit…it’s hard for me to follow songs, so I kept asking one of the native singers what the punchline was). We went to some bars again, and then to the discoteca…it was a good night. Plus we met some Norwegian and French kids on the bus home, who were fun to talk to. I love running into other abroad kids, it’s an instant bond.

And on the final night of the weekend, a Sunday, we went to the carnaval parade. It was absolutely fantastic—I got churros while we were waiting for it to start, and then when it finally did I couldn’t stop smiling. No one here knows what the mummers are (where my Philly people at?), but it’s so much like that…just more confetti. I keep finding confetti still, days later, and at the time the streets were just carpeted with it. The costumes and floats were amazing, and it was just so exhilarating to be there. We’re going to carnaval in Cádiz next weekend, which is supposed to be even bigger, and we’re all buying costumes for it. It should be so cool.

But after all that celebrating for finishing my paper, another work begins…I had my first shift at my internship in Málaga today. I work at COLEGA, an LGBT group here. There’s only like, two people working there, but they’re VERY nice. Today I started translating their webpage for them, so I’ll definitely post the link when they update it with my translation. It feels amazing to be able to do work like that, and I like doing the smaller things too—putting up posters, helping them set up the activities, whatever. They said I could design one of the weekly activities, and I think I already have an idea in mind. I’m excited!

Never throw in the towel!

So, I’ve been out of the internet world for a while…so this is actually from two weeks ago. The weekend before last had its ups and downs…but I’m left with a somewhat sour taste in my mouth. We had a four day weekend because of a holiday, but I didn’t go out the first day. We did go to La Malagueta the next day, with what forces we could gather. We usually sit on a boardwalk type area, but we thought the police were coming so we moved further down on the beach. But we passed a group of teenage boys, who kept shouting “guirris” at us and trying to talk to us, and we kept walking. But as we were walking away, they threw ice at us and hit one of our guys in the back of the head, and left a nasty bruise. We didn’t want to start anything though, so we settled further away on the beach. They came up to us after a while and tried to sell us pot, so we turned them down and tried to end the conversation. They walked away, but then threw a rock at us (thank god it didn’t hit anyone). We went around the corner, and decided to just walk even further up the beach…but then they threw a glass bottle that shattered next to us. So at that point, we started to run on the off chance their aim got better. We ran into the city, and some restaurant workers asked us what happened and gave us the number for the police. The police weren’t very helpful unfortunately…they weren’t interested in what happened, and asked what business we had being on the beach. It was frustrating…the boys were high and drunk, and the police didn’t care because we’re foreign. Holy hate crime batman.

We wanted to salvage the night, so we went into the center and barhopped a little until we ended up at a discoteca. Not even five minutes in, and a group of boys asked us where we were from. They’re from Georgia, and it’s sad…the first thing I asked was, the country or the state? That’s one way of knowing you’ve been abroad too long. They’re law students abroad at Oxford right now, and they bought us drinks and we taught them about España! We told them all Spaniards stay out until 6 AM, so they did it, and I didn’t get home till 7:30.

Obviously I woke up pretty late the next day, and that’s when I realized my computer no longer functions. It is pretty tragic, because it had my end of the semester 15 page paper for my university class (my ONLY grade in the class), along with all my pictures and essays from last semester. Thankfully, I had already turned in my CA application, so at least I didn’t have to re-do those six essays…but now my weekends are strenuous efforts on my part not to stare at the ceiling. On the bright side, I’m getting out of the house so much more to see some sunshine (Ha, get it? Bright side?). I spent that day along the beach with Brynn and Gil, and took a nap…productive.

Since we clearly weren’t meeting at La Malagueta again, we got a late start, but three of us still managed to go out the next night. We went to Fraggle, which was PACKED, and met a Moroccan guy. We moved on to a smaller bar, which was great because it wasn’t as crowded and the music was quieter. Plus it had barstools, so we sat around and talked, and shared our best Dickinson stories. A bunch of Spanish guys started talking to us, but they were a little comic because they knew it was kind of a failed attempt from the start. They didn’t know any English, but they liked our Spanish, and it was funny talking to them. We found another bar called Caché, and the bartender there likes me because when he asked if I wanted whiskey or rum to drink I said it was all the same to me…he gives us besitos when we go in now.

I went to a locutorio the next day, and was again frustrated by being foreign…it was a euro an hour, but he charged me a €1.50. When I tried to argue, he started yelling at me, so I just paid it. It’s just nonsense…but it made me really sad. Some Spaniards love foreigners, some hate them. It’s just a matter of finding the right ones.

The pancakes are gone, the arroz is on

All right. Back in Malaga, so I'll resume posting. My flight back to Europe was all right, but far less entertaining since it was my first flight without friends. But my row buddies were very nice, plus I got a gin and tonic and watched Prince Caspian first in English, then in Spanish (oh, it is still a novelty that I understand Spanish.) It was a long layover, but after Paris, I'm a pro at napping in airports and uncomfortable positions.

Then I literally did nothing for two days except put my stuff away and play on my computer...I think it was just a matter of when I got up. I was getting up so late, I just didn't feel like going out. I'm exceptionally lazy.

But then we had our meeting with the new students. We first went in, and had a big collective, “AHHHHHOWAREYOUHOWWASYOURBREAKYOULOOKGOOD” among the year long students, and then we went downstairs, and our meeting with Borges was just to talk about what we did on our vacations, which was sweet. It was funny, because I could remember how in September it would've terrified me to talk about my vacation in Spanish, and I would've been embarrassed at how poorly I spoke. Now I just chatter, even if I'm wrong, because at least it's practice. And Borges likes to joke with us, so it was fun. Then the new students came in, and I was literally bursting to meet them. And they're great! It's going to be such a good semester. We went to Baboo Cafe, and the food was excellent...I finally had some flan, since literally every other time I've tried to have it anywhere, the restaurant is out. It was...eh. I'd kill for a brownie.

Now to the good part, or, why you read my blog: Reason #68. Baby got into her first bar fight last weekend! And no, this wasn't a sissy bar fight with some ho with a weave...I got into a fight with two guys (who were missing teeth, which I think adds points to how bamf I am). Obviously, getting creeped on is a part of everyday life in a machista country...but after getting my arms tapped and pulled on, and my ass grabbed trying to walk across 10 feet, I was fed up. These guys wouldn't leave some of the new girls alone, so I tapped them on the shoulder (aren't I such a gentleman?) and said go away (or, vete in spanish). They gave me their best “fuck-off” face, so I shooed them condescendingly and said leave me (dejame in spanish, useful phrases). Then they started mouthing off to me, so I pushed the one guy a little...and he shoved me against a box. SO I PUSHED HIM THE FUCK BACK. He kept yelling things at me, but I honestly couldn't catch a lot of it....he called me foreign (he doesn't need 5 senses for that one), and called me a bitch, so I called him a cabron, which I honestly don't know how to translate to English (asshole maybe? son of a bitch?), the only other male insults I know are gay slurs so I try not to use them...and then two of the Dickinson kids got in front of me so that I didn't actually get hurt, because that would've been quite the downer.

We started classes today...and my classes start even later now. 5 PM. I'm going to shoot myself, because now I don't get up until 1 since my classes are so late. But I do like them (or maybe I just like looking at the professor...). We played a great game of, Is He Straight or Gay? and I'm pretty sure I'm on the winning side of that one, I just need to hold it together when I get called on. Borges' class isn't bad either, though I can't say I was paying loads of attention...but Borges is so enthusiastic, it's really a joy to watch.

All right, now I just need to get my sleeping schedule together so that I don't see 4 AM's except on weekends. Tune in next time for Lia-gets-full-of-herself-and-loses-an-eye. A thrilling tale.

Paris, Je t'aime.

Okay, so I know I skipped my Moroccan adventure...and I will eventually write about that. But for now, I'll tell you all about the last week. All the Dickinson kids went out on the last Thursday of the semester, which was fantastic. It was sad...it felt weird going out with people for the last time in Malaga. We made the most of it though, went to all our favorite bars and clubs, completely lost our minds, and stayed until things closed. I didn't go out the next night, opting for a less crazy night in, packing with my favorite people and chatting until we got a taxi at 4 AM to go to the airport. So, I was all set (sort of, because I hate packing) to go home on the 19th.

So we get to the airport, and the first thing we hear is that our flight from Paris to DC is canceled. It was pretty crushing. I called my mom, I told her not to worry about it, but that we were still going to fly to Paris because we might've been able to find a flight out later that day. There was only so much I could worry, since I hadn't slept yet. We got on the flight, I slept the entire way, and then we landed in Paris.

So we decided the best thing to do was to go to AirFrance's rebooking. Unfortunately...after waiting in line, talking to them, having them tell us five different flights we COULD be on, and then telling us they couldn't authorize splitting our tickets, we were told the earliest flight we could be on was 3 days later. And that the airline would only pay for one night at a hotel. We called our program director, who basically only said good luck...we called the travel agent, who wouldn't take our calls because it was a weekend...we called our school's public safety, who couldn't get Global Ed on the phone...and we called our parents, which was most crushing. There was a lot of freaking out, crying, etc (I like to think I held it together pretty well, the only time I cracked a little was when I was on the phone with home). Then since there was no one left to call, and nothing else to do, we went to pick up our luggage.

So, we knew it wouldn't be where it originally went, but it was a fight with baggage claim to get them to send up our luggage again. I took a nap while waiting for them to get back to us, but the floor of Charles de Gaulle isn't ideal (kinda chilly)....after 2 hours, they sent up our luggage. Unfortunately only half of mine was there. So, I waited for the next flight's luggage to be sent there...not on that trip either. So I went to baggage again, and demanded attention, until they finally told me my luggage had never left Malaga. Perfect. So I gave them a description, and just went to the hotel. However, I realized I've become a very assertive person...which I think is good, I've been too passive my whole life.

We saw our first snow of the season while waiting for the shuttle...it was cold, but I really liked it. The hotel was really nice, I got to wash the day off, and then we had our first dinner there...and I have to say, I wish I had studied in France just because of the food. SOOOO GOOD. But I was so tired I didn't make it to dessert (that's probably a first for me). The next day I got up early to go argue with the airport about my luggage again, but the people were more helpful, and they were really funny while we were waiting. They told us Obama was in Paris, and sang our national anthem to us...pretty funny.

So after that, we went to Paris. We took a train from the airport, and a girl stopped me and gave me a train ticket she said she didn't need...honestly, I think it was the first time a French person has been nice to me. But the trend continued, so I guess I just ran into some particularly grumpy French people before this (so glad to be proved wrong). Sooo, we got on the train, and an accordionist was playing...it felt very French. We got off at Notre Dame, which is absolutely beautiful. We decided to walk up the Seine, and saw a lot of impressive looking things, none of which I recognized. I walked through the outside of the Louvre, and was super excited. We kept walking, saw many more things, then started taking side streets to get to the Eiffel Tower, and came across a Starbucks (reminding you, we LOVE seeing Starbucks abroad). We got pancakes (!) with caramel on them, and then continued to to the Eiffel Tower, and when I saw it, I yelled, “I FOUND IT!” (and got teased the rest of the time). The Eiffel Tower was amazing...so much bigger than I expected. I wanted to go to the top...but no one else was interested in being as touristy as I was.

So after that, we headed over through a Christmas market towards the Arc de triomphe, and met a girl from Arizona who is studying in Granada, and she's a sociology major! She was very friendly, and it was such an abroad moment....there's so many randos we meet (I wrote about it this time because I realized I hadn't mentioned this phenomenon before). We headed down the Champs-Elysees with them, but split off to find dinner and head home. We ate at Pomme de Pain, which is basically French Subway. We also went into a pet shop, and I really wanted to buy a puppy (I refrained...no way to pack it). And then we went home, for some well-deserved sleep. Except we ended up going back to the airport to find food (grocery stores in Roissy are all closed on Sundays), and everything in the first terminal was closed....and we ended up walking through 5 terminals to find food. Worth it though. Totally worth it.

We woke up early again the next day, except being tired for so long meant we kept forgetting things and going back...but we made it into Paris again, and started by going to the Louvre. I saw the Mona Lisa, who was bigger than I expected. Everyone always told me she was so small, but it's a normal sized painting...hmm. We went through Greek and Roman antiquities and saw the Venus de Milo, and made our way over the Egyptian art...loved it. We went to another Greek sculpture wing, and basically dropped out around Mesopotamian pottery. Then we rallied to go through Napoleon III's apartments, through tapestries of the Middle Ages, and back for a quick visit to Renaissance art. Then we left to meet someone in the group's cousin, who's a teacher/model, and she was amazing! So so so nice, and she took us to a restaurant and we had a 3 hour dinner, which was perfect. I had real French onion soup, and a whole trout, which was the first time I was willing to debone one...painstaking, but so worth it. And then an amazing chocolate mousse. Also, because I'm a pirate, I tried grog....not bad really.

We hopped back on the metro, and went to Montmartre, where the Sacre-Coeur is. I had really wanted to see it, and it was amazing. We used old metro tickets to take the elevator up (there was no way we could walk after that meal), and it started snowing at the top. It was absolutely beautiful, and there was an amazing view of Paris. We went through the inside, and there was almost no one there. There were candles everywhere, and it was so calming. I think I finally had one of those abroad moments where I felt totally at peace. I was so content in every way, I was so glad that I had gotten to stay in Paris, if even just so that I could have that moment.

We decided to make one last stop before heading home...to the red light district. Definitely worth it, it was hilarious to see croissant shops next to Sexodrome, and I took pictures of the Moulin Rouge. After that, it was really time to go home, and get some sleep for the day before the flight.

So then it was time to say goodbye to croissants for breakfast, and confused French desk people, and me stumbling through conversations with my barely-there French skills....we went back to the airport (pretty sure I'm a traveling pro now, I know every terminal of Charles de Gaulle). We checked in, only to find that as one last amazing surprise, we got upgraded to business class. Which meant we went through business class security, to the business class lounge (where there was free food and drinks), to the business class boarding line, to our business class seats. I'm not sure how I'm ever going to go back...it was amazing. So much leg room. The blankets were warmer. The TV screen was bigger. There were socks...and a SHOE HORN. The dinner was amazing, I had eggplant masala, and there was a tablecloth and everything. And more utensils than I knew what to do with. I ended up not sleeping again, I watched a lot of Desperate Housewives, Gossip Girl, Sex and the City, and then I finished with Babel (so glad I didn't see that before I went to Morocco). Then we landed, I got to turn on my American phone, head through customs, and chat with my friends families before my poor mom made her way through all the traffic (blizzards have that effect of making traffic terrible even days later).

All in all, probably the best worst-situation that ever happened. Dickinson ended up paying for our hotel room and food, so I saw Paris for only the cost of transportation. It was really amazing, and I felt so much better about going home when I finally got on the plane. Everything happens for a reason, being abroad just proves that to me over and over. It was probably the best Christmas miracle ever that I got to see Paris, and I'm so glad everyone got home safely. Feliz Navidad!

Feliz Dia de Accion de Gracias! (a little late...)

So, yesterday was Thanksgiving, I'm sure you're all aware. And obviously I wasn't expecting any celebrations in Spain, but it was still very weird. We had Thanksgiving weather; it was overcast, rainy, and chilly all day (which is bizarre, it never rains here). I tried explaining Thanksgiving to my host mom at lunch, but it got awkward when I realized I didn't know the words for a lot of Thanksgiving food (cranberry sauce? pumpkin pie?). She got the idea though, but thought it was really weird that we were eating a big dinner. I went to classes like every other day, and it was odd having the buses work just fine, because they didn't have to re-route because of a parade. Our first professor was lenient with us, and let us tell her all about Thanksgiving for 30 minutes. The next professor almost sucked the holiday joy out of us, but we escaped in time.

So every year Dickinson takes its students out to a Thanksgiving dinner. I don't think the other programs do this, because the people I know in England and Italy just made stuff in their apartments to share with other American students, so I'm pretty lucky that the Malaga program plans it for us. We went to a restaurant called Tormes, and they had two big tables set up. It was a little strange at first...I ordered sangria, which isn't very Thanksgiving-y, and they put out big plates of coleslaw (maybe some people have coleslaw for Thanksgiving in the States, but I don't). It was so much fun though. My friend's mom was visiting, so they had her bring out the turkey for us, as the only mom between all 30 of us. It was cute. And instead of putting a smorgasbord on the table, they gave us pre-made plates with stuffing, green beans, mashed potatoes, mashed squash or yams (it was orange, but it didn't quite taste like either to me...), and of course, tons of turkey. It was AWESOME. Not like home, but definitely the best meal I've had since coming abroad. And the conversation was really fun too. Everyone talked about their Thanksgivings at home, and it was really cool to hear what people were used to eating, from empanadas to strawberry pie, arroz y jamon to date bread (hard to explain that one to people). We all listened to what everyone on the trip was thankful for, and it was definitely a group moment. Everyone missed their families, but it was probably one of the best nights we all had here. And then, to finish it off, we had dessert. They served us this apple pie-type-thing I see here sometimes, it's all custard (or something) with sliced apples on top, and ice cream on the side (amazing ice cream, it looked like vanilla, but tasted like awesome). And then we all had some of the amazing pumpkin pie one of the grad students so kindly made for us. Then we wandered around digesting and talking. Pretty spectacular. It was probably the least stressful Thanksgiving ever, since there was no work to be done, and no decisions to be made. Even Thanksgiving in the caf is always a big to-do with who you're going to eat with.

Now, I'm super excited to be spending the weekend with my dear friend Audrey! Though I still have not finished those papers...I would welcome any tips on how to focus.

Un petit rien

Not the most fascinating thing to read about, but in case you were curious: 2 papers down, 2 to go. The presentation on one of the papers I have yet to write was canceled, so that gives me a little more time...not to meet my personal deadline, but for the actual one.

I went to a concert the other night, and I was expecting traditional Spanish music or something...and it was not. It was one woman and a pianist, and she was going through history from WWI to the start of the cold war, and I guess singing songs to represent different parts of this? I didn't really enjoy it...I like weird, but this was too weird. And I only liked her voice when she sang in French.

Also, I ate protein today. Victory.

Hace frio...

Not much to report on to be honest. Spain got cold (or, it feels cold to us at least. It hasn't gotten below 50 at night). And it's weird, we didn't watch the leaves change or anything...it's just very suddenly not summer anymore. There aren't anymore trips this semester, except an optional trip to Morocco that I'm going on. I'm pretty excited, hitting two continents I'm not a resident of in one semester is impressive I think.

I'm working on a lot of papers...one on the gastronomy of las islas Baleares, and a tour route through the islands. One on Valle de los Caidos. One on a poem I haven't picked yet (okay, so I guess clearly I'm not working on that...). One on gay marriage in Spain. And finally, the journal I should have been keeping all semester on my experiences in Spain. I'm extremely unproductive though...it takes a lot to get me to write a paragraph, and then I feel so accomplished I take a break for an hour. But it'll get done...once the pressure sets in, I'll get it done.

I went out to a Salsa club the other night (and didn't realize it was a salsa club beforehand..) and realized I have no idea how to salsa. But my dance partner told me I improved a lot by the end of the night, and a Colombian guy I met there taught me how to merengue (which isn't saying a lot, it's not a hard one). But it was fun! I'll probably go back, even though I was literally the only gringa there.

Oh, so funny story time...so my host mom sat with me at lunch the other day, and reminisced about some of her past students, and mentioned the student who stayed here two years ago. I said I knew her (which is a lie, I just know who she is), and my host mom was like "Oh! Such a nice girl! But...when she came here...she was fat. And then she told me that in the US you can't tell people they're fat. Is that true?" And I didn't know what to say...so I said, "Umm...it depends on the person, I think..." and then she proceeded to tell me how she only gave that student salads and fruit, and how she left thin, and was so much happier. And how she would tell her not to eat bread when she asked for it, so she wouldn't gain weight...but after she told me all this, she got up, and took the bread from the table. Not so subtle a hint? I thought it was funny. Until I really did lose weight from not eating bread for a few days (but don't worry, she bought more and I think I single-handedly ate half a loaf).

Another funny story: in Lit class one day, we were discussing a Lorca poem called Tu Infancia en Menton. It's very surrealist, and uses very weird descriptions...one line goes, "It's there, lion, there, sky's fury, where I'll let you graze on my cheeks," which I actually love. But I have absolutely no attention span, and wasn't listening when the professor was talking about it, and so she asked, "Isn't that beautiful?" and I absent-mindedly starting shaking my head no. She said, "No?! What do you mean no?" And I get very alarmed when she speaks to me (she's terrifying), and even though I really like those lines, I said "Well...it's a little strange, isn't it?" and then she yelled at me for calling surrealism strange. And tried to convince me that the grazing part was like little kisses (I was imagining a little more carnage from a lion grazing your cheeks). Whatever. She actually likes me better now that I disagreed with her.