So, here I am, simaltaneously counting down the days until I leave and counting down the days I have left. Its a weird little place I am in, resting comfortably in my Spain, getting ready to leave it for my real mom, America.
I study now, a lot, the finals crashing in on me like a surging wave during a thunderstorm of confusion, chaos, and complete emotional indemnity. Alas, I must carry on, studying the literature, art, language, and culture of a nation I have grown to love, appreciate, hate, despise, admire, and know in the past three and a half months. I hope to post more later, but now I am off, to write an essay on Garcia Lorca, a hometown hero of Granada, a poet killed in the Spanish Civil War, and now, the author of the only play I have ever read completely in Spanish.
Sending my love, and getting ready to see everyone soon,
Love
me
Friday, December 5, 2008
Wednesday, December 3, 2008
Toledo, Spanish Art, Culture...
On to continuing my fanciful retelling of the past weekend,
While most of the weekend was spent in Madrid, the majoirty of our Saturday was spent in La Mancha, walking the cobblestoned streets of Toledo. The city, built upon a very tall, mountain-like hill, looms powerful over you as one approached from the train station (thanks to a modern train system, it is 20 minutes from Madrid to Toledo). Hometown (but NOT birthplace) of EL Greco, his works loomed large in the city, filling catherdrals.
One of his most famous images, a painting of his city, mirrored our walk up to the town. A drizzly and over cast day, the ancient fortress of a town seemed to be exactly like that of his paints. The city, of lurid browns and shaded grays, was a puzzle of a town, a map that seemed like a joke, its history was crushed into the little space within its medieval walls. A history of cultural blending, Jews living amongst nuns, moorish powers looming in the walls, some how mangaed to create the most unique Spanish city I have visited yet.
It was expensive, over priced if you ask me, a tourist trap of 2 euro coffees and little Don Quixote statues, but nonetheless, it was beautiful . I love Toledo, a town apparently famous for its marzipan (mazapan in espanol), it had its own unique personality, one that inspired one of Spain most famous artists, el Greco, and one that inspired me to learn to love Spain once more.
While most of the weekend was spent in Madrid, the majoirty of our Saturday was spent in La Mancha, walking the cobblestoned streets of Toledo. The city, built upon a very tall, mountain-like hill, looms powerful over you as one approached from the train station (thanks to a modern train system, it is 20 minutes from Madrid to Toledo). Hometown (but NOT birthplace) of EL Greco, his works loomed large in the city, filling catherdrals.
One of his most famous images, a painting of his city, mirrored our walk up to the town. A drizzly and over cast day, the ancient fortress of a town seemed to be exactly like that of his paints. The city, of lurid browns and shaded grays, was a puzzle of a town, a map that seemed like a joke, its history was crushed into the little space within its medieval walls. A history of cultural blending, Jews living amongst nuns, moorish powers looming in the walls, some how mangaed to create the most unique Spanish city I have visited yet.
It was expensive, over priced if you ask me, a tourist trap of 2 euro coffees and little Don Quixote statues, but nonetheless, it was beautiful . I love Toledo, a town apparently famous for its marzipan (mazapan in espanol), it had its own unique personality, one that inspired one of Spain most famous artists, el Greco, and one that inspired me to learn to love Spain once more.
Tuesday, December 2, 2008
A Chilly Burst of Air
Well, it has officially gotten cold. As I stepped off the Madrid bus I noticed a different type of chill in the air. By the next morning, snow had arrived in the majority of Spain, and while Granada was left unscathed, the bitter wind has blown all the way south into Andalucia.
So, as I waved goodbye to my mom, leaving her in Madrid for the night, I also, unknowingly waved goodbye to autumn. So, here I am, alone, the winter of my trip coinciding perfectly with the actual frost of December.
I have sixteen days until I leave Spain, eleven until I leave Granada. And I finally, after three months, I went to Madrid, the capital, and left Andalucia.
Madrid, the city of lights, of endless nights, of art museums and international people. Half of the metro was foreign, and half of those foreigners were speaking english. The streets were filled all the time, bustling and buzzing with end of November swarms that in America would be directly connected to Thanksgiving, but in Spain, just means another crazy night.
We spent out days in Museusm, eight hours in the Prado, four in the Reina Sofia. Each room unveiling more pieces that I never thought I would ever see, each work enough to define an entire collection. It was overload, but in the most pleasant of ways, a sensory explosion that left me in a state of malaise upon exit.
Madrid was amazing, the food normal, of classic Spanish level, with lots of potatos, eggs, jamon and cheap cheap wine, and my partner in crime, my mommy, was awesome.
I miss you all,
I love you all,
Sincerely,
Me
So, as I waved goodbye to my mom, leaving her in Madrid for the night, I also, unknowingly waved goodbye to autumn. So, here I am, alone, the winter of my trip coinciding perfectly with the actual frost of December.
I have sixteen days until I leave Spain, eleven until I leave Granada. And I finally, after three months, I went to Madrid, the capital, and left Andalucia.
Madrid, the city of lights, of endless nights, of art museums and international people. Half of the metro was foreign, and half of those foreigners were speaking english. The streets were filled all the time, bustling and buzzing with end of November swarms that in America would be directly connected to Thanksgiving, but in Spain, just means another crazy night.
We spent out days in Museusm, eight hours in the Prado, four in the Reina Sofia. Each room unveiling more pieces that I never thought I would ever see, each work enough to define an entire collection. It was overload, but in the most pleasant of ways, a sensory explosion that left me in a state of malaise upon exit.
Madrid was amazing, the food normal, of classic Spanish level, with lots of potatos, eggs, jamon and cheap cheap wine, and my partner in crime, my mommy, was awesome.
I miss you all,
I love you all,
Sincerely,
Me
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