Thoughts, Theories, Ideas

When it comes to being a foreigner, detached from family and friends, I have found myself gripping to my own self image and struggling to maintain it in such a different environment. Its so mysterious to me how life can go on at home without my presence and how I can maintain life here without those who have defined me and helped me. Its truly bizarre.

I guess, at this point, I am accepting reality and embracing it. Its hard some mornings, waking up to familiar faces who don´t understand you. As one of my friends here was saying, you can´t explain yourself beyond ¨¨Me siento mal¨ I feel bad. Its not a sickness, nor should it be treated as such. Its the pangs of growth, my mental muscles worn from stretching and working in ways they´ve never had to before. I sleep. Too much, and I am trying to change that, force myself to walk the streets, breath the life of Spain.

Today, I woke up late, and stumbled out onto Camino De Ronda, the big street by where I live. I walk past if everyday and I truly believe it gives you one of the best views of the city, you can see the enormous sierra nevadas in the distance, the Alhambra high on its peak overlooking the town, houses upon houses, layered up the mountain, and directly infront, the dirty streets of a city. A wall of grafitti, a empty space where bums seem to live, a train station that runs the rails dirty. Its beautiful and its my Granada. Life is here, changing, forming, climbing up the mountains, stumbling down to the dirt of the land infront of me.

I sat down at one of my favorite benches and started to take notes on my feelings, (I have essentially regurgitated them onto this blog) and I realized something, across from me had sat a middle aged man. His skin and hands brown, a dirty blue shirt, rusty corodory pants, a plastic bag filled with god knows what. In the middle of this beatiful Sunday scene, families walking their dogs, old couples strolling after church, there I sat accross from this man. Clearly homeless, his expression not one of pain but of blankness, of numbness to the world. And here I am complaining about my experiences...

What it comes down to is this is such an unreal moment, one so luxurious you almost forget how lucky you are. So, I decided, I have to take notice, look around, feel it. I have to take Granada into my body because if I don´t, I will truly be a brat. I am so thankful for what I have, and I hope to take these moments and NEVER forget them, and to help them teach me who I am and what it is to be alive.

Its an experience and sometimes experiences hurt, they cut, they bruise, they shame, they embarass, but they build you. And, to be honest, being here is unreal. I am here to see another world, to see a place so unlike my own, to learn a langugae so rapid fire and passionate, my chill Northern heart still struggles to comprehend. Spain is unlike me, so unlike me, and I am taking it in and embracing that although we are different, I am here to learn, to see, to feel, to hopefully to understand, at least a little, of what it is to be Spanish.



WOW: sorry, that was REALLY cheesy. I APOLOGIZE, its just a weird moment, and I felt I should write about it. I hope you all understand.

I love you and miss you all....

Another Day, Another Blog

So, how was Cordoba?

I DID go to Maimodones´statue, and the old synogogue. It was one of three that remained after the Reconquista, and it was really weird seeing it covered in Moorish decoration. Seeing the old Hebrew letterring, something that had survived so many years of secrecy, was something so unreal. It almost stood as a representation of a my culture, something that had gone through so much, and yet, even though it may be crumbling, it survives. (sorry, for the lil jew power bit...hehe)

We saw the famous Mezquita of Cordoba, which had a cathedral set in the middle, also, so strange to see the covering up of religious history by others, seeing this erasure of history, recovered and retold. And yet, by erasing one history, you are creating another, so restoring the old Mosque would destroy the Baroque building.

I will try to post pictures later, I forgot my chord!! sorry!!!

On To Cordoba!

So, tomorrow I am taking a day trip to Cordoba, my tests are finally over and I can BREATH!!!

Woooh!

So, life in Spain. Well, what they don´t tell you about Cafe Con Leche is that eventually you get SICK OF IT AND JUST WANT A GIANT MUG OF COFFEE...so, for week, some classmates and I have been craving mugs of it.

Well, lo and behold, about twenty minutes from my school, they open a Dunkin donuts, A REAL LIVE DUNKIN DONUTS!!! WITH BIG COFFEES!! See, the thing is, its nice soaking up the foreign country, but damnit, you miss what you knew, what you were used to, and ginat mugs of coffee.

So, I went to Dunkin Donuts, and I liked it, I don´t care what anyone thinks. It looked just like any DD, same pictures of coffee and bagels and unsatisfactory donuts. Its an amazing place, really. truly amazing. Ha.

Outside of that, well, I am alright, nothing exciting. I spent my past few days reading, or writing, or a little of both. So, no knew ideas...still trying to figure out the whole thing, but if you are interested...he has a website.

http://www.elninodelaspinturas.com/

I´´m Using The Time I paid For...JUSTFYI

I am working a lot here in Spain, surprisingly. I only took a fifteen minute nap!! And I only slept about four hours yesterday. With two papers (en español) and a test tomorrow, I have been quite the busy bee. Studying, running from closing internet cafe to cheaper internet cafe, and also, working. Yes. Remember that job I mentioned, well I went.

By job, I mean, one hour a week where I tutor two small children in English. Bubbly Pilar and BookWorm Gonzalo. They´re a cute pair, I think 9 and 11 respectively. Their English is significantly better than my Spanish, so we try to work on advanced things, like adjectives. I essentially make up my own MadLibs, which they enjoy dearly. I realized that I have no command over kids, or atleast, I am not trying to. See, they are little and I do not want to yell at them to focus, I want to maintain that sense of coolness that I hold so dear, so I let them distract eachother. Yes, within one hour, they will jump off topic about seven times. I mean, I know I´m not much of tutor, never pretended to be, but its still surprising how much kids can like you for just being there. Seriously, kids want to like you, I do very little, and yet, they tell me how awesome I am all the time. Its quite the ego boost, until you realize they like every one, and were born in 1998. oof. I´m old.

So, that is that.

Also, on the graffiti forefront...
Sometimes you should do research before you find yourself with your foot stuck soo deep within your mouth that you choke. I was talking to a fellow student at school the other day and he bragged, ¨el niño is a family friend.¨
¨El niño?¨ I asked, looking politely at him, thinking of the infamous weather pattern I wrote an article about when I was seven.
¨Yeah, the infamous grafitti artist of Granada. The one that actually gets paid by the city¨
¨Oh that´s cool, I didn´t realize there was a famous one¨ My face flushed red. All my theories, all confused and jumbled now that I know that it is infact the city, the government, that higher cultural authority that pays for the graffiti of Granada. Wow. The irony.

Of course, not ALL the graffiti is El Niños, my favorite work does not contain his name, at least I have yet to find it, but with this new information, I am realizing that jumping to conclusions leads to a state of dissarray. And that there has always been and will always be patrons of the arts, no matter what the art is.

Alright, that´s call for now. Miss you all. Love you all. Off to study about Gypsys and Flamenco DANCE!!!