Ok so I lied.

I had tons to write about yesterday and I wanted to just bombard you all with blog posts about my big weekend and how I was feeling about everything. But again I was thwarted by my lack of internet and when I did have internet I was talking with people back home because I needed to desparately. Oh well, you are at my mercy (Buahahahahahha evil wizard of oz esque laugh).

Ok let me tell you about the Real Madrid game. It was sort of a last minute thing that my friends and I planned haphazardly because magically we all had time off. So we got tickets for 45 euro(!) and made our way to the train station to buy tickets to Madrid. The frist time we went there was mass confusion over whether the bus or the trian would be the better option and we spun our wheels for a while and ended up buying nothing. Once we went home and did some appropriate online research, it was clear that the train was the right choice - little did we know what awaited us.

Let me take a little break in this story to say that Madrid gives me hives. Much love to my friends studying there but I could never do it. Too much noise, too many people, too big, too much everything. So anxiety level for this trip was a little high, but luckily we were planning on spending the afternoon before the game in the Retiro park so a little sunshine and grass between my toes would help dissipate my ogida. Train ride went pretty smoothly and the metro ride was fine but really long. I would trade the cleanliness of the Madrid metro for the dingier and crime riddled New York subway anyday. We made it to Retiro and had a splendid afternoon lounging, eating bocadillos, and doing cartwheels.

Cut to GAME TIME. We had to take the metro again and this time every stop brought with it more sweaty/ already slightly intoxicated Real Madrid fans with no sense of personal space. Also not conducive to Maxie making balloon hats for the game -people can be so insensitive sometimes. Every stop I said- oh I guess these people have to wait for the next train. No. No they didn't. They just kept packing in until I was pressed against one of the rails with my butt in some poor old man's face ( I guess it's one way to make friends in a new city). Once everyone started to get off I rejoiced and went to steal a seat. But alas this was our stop too- duh. So we mosey-ed on with all the fanatics, went to the official store to buy some gear ( see FB pics with scarves), and Maxie lovingly bought me a soda to counter my low blood sugar and consequent crankiness.

We got to our seats just in time. Oh and Ps the game was against Tenerife so no one was that concerned about how this game would go. The people next to us were Tenerife fans and liked to sing the Tenerife song under their breath at tense moments. The man in front of us preferred to smoke a pipe. Real Madrid also thinks it is a GREAT idea to give small children souped up foghorns that you blow into. Wow - someone in marketing really took their time thinking that one through. Anyway the first half was pretty boring because the Tenerife defense was pretty tight. When I didn't know what was happenning, I just followed the lead and screamed when all the drunk bros around me did. Second half, Real Madrid dominated - thanks in part to my favorite player Iker Casillas ( who's dating Miss Spain - no big). Luisa and I spent most of the game hating on Cristiano Ronaldho and how he wears Ed Hardy. We won( duh) and got back on the metro with all the other happy people. We made lots of friends in the train station with our scarves - old men, tweens, security guards, etc We were in demand and also just so excited that Spaniards were talking to us out of their own accord.

This is where the good times end. We got on the train with our balloon hats and parafanalia and bags of delicious fast food. We even sat in the right seats. the conductor comes by and we hand him our tickets - the same ones we had used with no problem on the way there. The conductor mumbles something about carnet joven and gives us a dirty look. Whatever. Maxie then engages him in a conversation about what the problem is. We bought our tickets using the machine and we selected the joven option because we are, indeed joven. We were prompted to enter a number which we interpreted as our age. Apparently, there is a special youth card that you need to have to get this 4 euro discount. Shouldn't the machine have noted some error when all of us entered our card number as "20"or "21." Maxie explained all of this to the conductor and asked if we could pay the difference - which we were all willing to do. This jerk was like "no you can't these tickets that you have don't exist - you need to buy all new tickets." He waved his hand over our useless tickets like he was a jedi master- very " These aren't the droids you're looking for." Maxie continued to try to reason with him and he spouted us all sorts of platitudes like " Forget what the computer said " and " Would you like to buy 1 ticket or 3 tickets? because i will charge you 3 times over." Uh no I don't think so sir - this is not my first time at the rodeo. And clearly this man did not know who my señora was. Paquita will find you and end you. Period. El fin. It became clear that he was talking down to us 1) because we were a group of young girls and 2) because we were a group of young american girls. He turned around smugly and tried to get the whole train to laugh at us and assured us that no matter who we talked to we would never get our money back. he even took the time to write - Didn''t present carnet joven on each of our receipts. Gosh he's precious.

Again - whatever. We paid up because clearly this man had nothing better to do than extort helpless people. but ooo were we mad. Luisa called the perp a cabrón and we laughed for 2 hours straight about the crisis and what he could possibly be using the money for. I couldn't wait to get home and tell Paquita so that the reign of terror could commence. I animatedly told her every detail and how this man basically stole our money and her response was....

Oh. I guess you'll have to buy fewer beers this week.

One of Many Today

I can never decide what to write about which usually just makes me put it off and then the blogging topics just pile up, further compounding my problem.

My possible topics for today:
Being homesick
Diego
Real Madrid game
Cured Meats ( just kidding I think if I have any more posts about meat I would be sponsored by some sort of meat producers collective)
My really fun Thursday night

Oh well I have some time so I'll try to touch a little on all 4 topics - because they are fun and I need to vent to vosotros ( spanish form of yáll)

Being Homesick

I was really hoping to avoid this one. I thought my culturally permeable self was at least a little bit immune, but I should have expected it. My set up at home is pretty sweet. Having lived there for my whole life, I feel like I have things figured out in Poughkeepsie although that isn’t too hard. I have lots of different groups of friends and something to do every night of the week. I've got my family close by so if anything happens that I'm not 100% happy with they are a safe haven and they always think I’m funny which is great therapy. I've got my sister around and all her wonderful friends and Julie is a souce of constant sanity and acceptance for me. And Marist. I have billions of things to pour all my energy into there and it is just full of people that love and support me.

I am reminded sometimes that I am here totally alone, isn’t it great when you get exactly what you want? People have said in the past that I am independent to a fault( although it’s one of the things I like most about myself) and I think that streak is what lead me here.Plus I have a big group of super independent women that feed my mania: Mar, Daniela, my mom, my sister, Julie MB, etc etc. I’m in a constant quest to prove to myself that I can do whatever I want and even some stuff I don’t really want to do just to prove that I can. I get a high off of new things and I can get a little possessive about people and experiences. So I went some place that would forever be just mine. What scares me and at the same time is super cool, is that when you take away all the things that you do, the things that define most of us as college students and people - our friends, our families, our activities, our internet access, our native language- you still exist and all the stuff you left behind exists without you too(Enter :big punch to your ego stage right) You exist in our most pure form. It's scary but it's healthy. We spend a lot of time keeping busy and distracting ourselves from the fact that when you fall asleep at night - it's just you. As much we love other people, no one else can live with you in your head and the relationship we have with ourselves and whatever being we believe in is basically what we got. Other people and things enrich that in UNBELIEVABLE ways- and I believe more than ever that people need people (cue Delilah jingle) - but there is no. And your interactions with other people are so much richer once you know a little bit about who you are- and that requires large doses or honesty and acceptance. I have a habit of losing myself in activities, school, and other people and forgetting what I need or ignoring who I am and what I want. I convince myself that I don’t want certain things because I’m scared of what might happen if I’m not 100% independent I’m having to live with myself in a way I never have before and it's one of the hardest things I have ever done. Waking up in the morning and being slapped in the face with your own reality gets tiring. I keep reminding myself it is what I need and that this is growing up and I’m trying to cherish these growing pains and feel them fully, but I wouldn't mind a hug once and a while or a big friendly greeting from my dog. Also I am missing autumn on the Hudson :(

I´m Running out of witty titles and I´m too lazy to try to employ alliteration

Ok so first real week of classes is done! Serious embarassment avoided and I am absolutely bowled over by my professors and how much they know. As I may have mentioned before I have poured over every piece of information API has given me, hoping to come across any little piece of information that might come in handy or that I might be able to bring up in conversation as a helpful tip ( I love info bytes- I can still tell you the average priceof gas in northern Europe from 2005. The notebook section of TIME magazine and I are in an exclusive relationship - even if my dad does think its a liberal rag).

So one of my booklets said that Spanish professors were not interested in entertaining students because they had worked hard and their position as a professor was pretty much secured. Either way, I knew it would be different from my classes at home that had 8 students and I consider almost all of my professors at Marist my very good friends and my most prized mentors. I am ridiculously spoiled in that respect. I have changed my schedule here about 5 times ( kinda like how I changed my major freshman year- I was a philosophy major for a while), so I have gotten to see lots of different professors here in action. I have finally settled on 3 courses:

Literatura española
Historia de música española
Música y cine

Literatura española should be fine. I am going to have to do LOTS and LOTS of reading. I have to choose 2 books from a list of middle age and renaissance Spanish classics and one from the span of time between the start of the Guerra Civil and the end of franquismo. We get to discuss them in smaller groups called seminarios which should be great language practice. And in Música y cine ( shout out to Prof. Melis) my profesora is absolutely insane, in a very jolly way. It is a little difficult to understand her Spanish, but since I am one of 2 foreigners in the class I can´t complain, and what is funny is that she interrupts her torrents of Spanish and technical musical terms with little snippets of jingles. BA BA BE BA DO BAHHHHHH Very Robert Goulet. I have 200 pages of reading to do by Monday on música diegética and then I have to apply it to Cantando bajo la lluvia in a paper for Tuesday. Cue look of pity from Paquita ( alliteration :cha-ching) . However, the people in the class are SO nice and someone even said hi to me outside of class! With patience comes progress!

And Historia de música is just blowing my mind. Paco knows so much about Rome, Latin, linguistics, the history of time ( for real!), the Church -EVERYTHING. I made a rather embarassing error in class though. We were talking about the liturgical calendar and Paco asked when the liturgical year started. I rocked the plaid skirt and knee socks for 13 years - I´ve got this on lock. And I´m even gonna be brave and raise my hand - carpe diem right?

Me : Pentecosto
Paco: No

Fail. My elementary school nuns would be so disappointed in me. Ann Belz would probably call me a turkey. Let the hanging my head in shame commence. But it seemed to be the go to answer. When the other foreign students didn´t know an answer that screamed out Pentecost - when in doubt the answer is either Harry Truman, fossils, Pentecost or choice C.

I have to remind myself how much older Europe is than America and that when I grew up learning the presidents and going to historical mansions with my family, these people grew up learning the emperors and visiting the Colloseum. They understand so much more about how culture developed because, more or less, this is where it happened. And when you understand where everything came from, you can live a more relaxed life. You become a truly independent person when you can make decisions coming from a historical-anthropological perspective rather than one of fear. America is still so young and most people have an extremely limited knowledge of history and I think that´s another source of some of our problems. We as a nation are easily convinced of things and we have a tendency to be impulsive and go with our gut feeling. That´s what makes us unique and in some situations it has served us well. But would it be so bad to temper that a bit with some good ol´classics? And believe me I LOVE American history but it´s just one part of the platter of cured meats that we call culture-history-etc.

More News

Paquita has cured me of the Gripe - I swear I would elect this woman president if I could. She gave me a long discourse on El Quijote and the biography of Cervantes. Over cream cheese and salami sandwiches.
I dropped my class on Religion and the Church in the Modern Age: I just couldn´t spend 3 hours of my Spanish week listening to lectures on the different orders of monks. But given my Pentecost answer maybe I should reconsider...
I got screamed at by a Spanish taxi driver last night.
2 intercambios this week!
Real Madrid game Saturday
I miss cheeseburgers

In Which I Devour Culture

AH! Again tons to say! What would you like to hear first - exciting personal news or detailed account of my weekend? Exciting personal news it is! A spoonful of exciting personal news helps the detailed account of the weekend go down - that´s what I always say!

So I don´t know how many of you had the distinct privilege of visiting Gartland G2 last year, but if you did you certainly remember the glorious C Room that I shared with Miss Alana Linsinbigler. We had a prime location away from the noise but still close to the bathroom and kitchen and, if you ask me, we had a very impressive collection of classic art on the walls. We also created a new,innovative storage system known as ¨the floordrobe." And you can too! Basically all laundry and clothes that werent quite ready to be washed rested on the floor next to Alana´s bed - creating a soft landing for me coming down from the loft and also creating a time-space vortex into the next dimension. Long story short- we never saw our floor and no one came to visit our room out of sheer terrror. And we liked it like that. My family can attest that I have a tendency to EXPLODE ( Copyright Kim Levine 2007) in any room that I am staying in and you can usually retrace all of my steps in a day because I leave a trail of books, plates, clothes etc. in my wake.

Cut to me eating with Paquita ( duh - ps last night I had a hot dog and cream cheese sandwich for dinner - top that!) and Paquita was sharing some horror stories from some of her past homestays. She then said that things with me were going perfectly - I communicated with her, I liked her food, I was considerate of her schedule and................

My room is " phenomenally clean"

Yeah that´s right - PHENOMENALLY

This ain´t no amateur hour. Sure I have a few less things than I do back in the states but I have to give myself a pat on the back. My room IS phenomenally clean! Proof that people really can change - at least for now. My next roommate Jacel, who is not a creater/founder of the floordrobe, will undoubtedly appreciate this improvement. Also if anyone is thinking of going abroad I 123890% recommend doing a homestay. Besides the fact that you get to practice more language and end up with a gem like Paquita - it is a pretty sweet deal. Delicious food, funny stories, a clean, quiet house.. and your underwear gets folded. No lie.

Ok so this weekend was rather jampacked with fun and adventures. On Friday we went to the bullfights! I was so nervous and a bullfight isn´t really the place for a east coast pseudo hippie or the sister of Julie: Animal Warrior. But when in Spain... and the tickets were only 20 euro so I went with it. The Plaza de Toros in Salamanca is a classic and according to Paquita, Salamanca is one of the bull capitals of Spain- meaning that all the best bulls used in la corrida come from just outside of Salamanca. There used to be a saying Salamanca: arte, saber, y toros. ( Salamanca: arte, culture, bulls). Everyone was excited to see the very famous bullfighter Cayetano (basically the Cher/ Madonna of Bullfights). He used to be an Armani model and if I do say so myself- DAMN. Well it turns out that Cayetano should maybe stick to his day job. He did not do so well in the fight- he couldn't get the sword in at the end of the fight and he was very impatient and wasn't waiting for the right moment. The older aficionados around me were very very disappointed in him- their voices were dripping with sadness.The younger Salamanca native ended up winning - and deservedly so. In the first 5 minutes of the fight, the bulls horn hooked onto his bolero jacket and he was basically under a 490 kilo raging bull. If you do a good job, you get one ear of the bull. If you do really well you get 2 ears and if you are phenomenal you get two ears and a tail. The winner got two ears each time - there were six bulls and three toreros. Definitely an iconic experience - one I am not likely to have again. By the end I was kind of desensitized to what was going on but at the end when the bull is dying , they stab them in the head with a shorter knife and that NEVER gets easier to watch.

The next day, the girls and I decided to see something new in Salamanca. We visited the cathedral, which is right next to the school of filología. You know Spain has spoiled you when you are not bowled over by the Salamanca cathedral. After Toledo, everything else is just peanuts- but we did take a sweet Power Ranger picture outside. Then we visited the Museo de Casa Lis, which is the art deco/art nouveou museum here that used to be someone's house. It's full of knick-knacks basically but very cool 1920s knick knacks and lots of art that looks like it's by Picasso or Degás, but is really not. These people also liked clowns and antique dolls a lot. Kinda weird but it's their house I guess. Then we went to the movies right around the corner and saw a fantasic Japanese film ( dubbed over in Spanish=trippy) called Despedidas. I will spare you the synopsis and just include a link to the trailer. ( Sorry it's in Spanish :-)

Other news from Spain: I have played 375 games of Free Cell and have won 91% of those games. And I wonder why I'm single. Rather than focus my attention on the Spanish mullet I am choosing to do an in depth study on the use of jorts in the culture of the Spanish male. For those of you unfamiliar with the term jeans+shorts=jorts. I have some sort of bug that Paquita has deemed a "gripe." According to Paquita : La gripe A: mala. La otra: esta bien. This bug is severely limiting my ability to eat cured meats which is disturbing to both Paquita and I. I am a little bit homesick these days because classes are getting difficult and being sick also makes you miss home. I wouldn't mind an after dinner walk with my fam, a boopadoo with the MD, Chain Reaction with the girlsm or a little bit of swing dancing here and there. I'm definitely very excited for people to visit me and to start travelling. Next up is Porto, Portugal!

Still fighting the gripe so forgive me if this blog isn't high on inspiration/wit. I will be back to normal soon! I just had to fit in an update bc nothing annoys me more than abandoned blogs- and I couldn't do that to you guys!

Love - Fio

Photo Credits: Cayetano http://manolobig.com/wordpress/wp-content/uploads/2008/10/toreador.jpg

Intercambio Intoxication

Oh gosh I have so much to say to all of you! Which is exactly what I want to write about and exactly why I did my best NY power walk to get over here with no makeup and wet hair and a very random assortment of garments that I'm calling ''an outfit" for now. I had a great day yesterday and after sleeping on it I have a lot to say about the world and myself. Pregnant women and people with a heart condition are encouraged to exit the blog now.

So a big thing to do here to improve your language skills is to have and intercambio. There´s a page on the USAL website where you say " hey im emily I speak english and I want to practice spanish" and you can find someone who wants to practice english and speaks spanish. You guys meet up for a coffee or something and practice and if you get along it becomes a weekly thing. So being absolutely obsessed with becoming fluent and in my quest to meet some Spaniards, I emailed a few people asking to meet up. The first person to respond was named Enrique and we made a date to meet up outside of one of the language buildings.

I know, I know. Meeting a stranger you met online. #1 on the list of things parents, Sesame Street, and common sense tell you not to do. As soon as I received an email in response I was already picturing myself in the back of a truck on the way to some undisclosed location to become some sort of slave ( thanks mom for that :-) So as the time neared for us to meet I became increasingly nervous and found many excuses as to why I could not go ( the most pressing one being that I was having a very bad hair day). I walked up to the building and there he was in his dark adidas sweatshirt as promised. He literally could not have been nicer, more intelligent, or more interesting.

We talked for an hour and a half about EVERYTHING. He was gracious and funny and patient when I reverted back to English. I was so engrossed in everything and relieved that he was not an axe murderer that I didn´t even notice he had paid for my coffee ( I told you he was a peach. My apology email is pending. I don´t want word to get around the intercambio scene that Iñm trying to work Spanish men for free coffee).

So this is where the intoxication part comes in. I left our session utterly giddy. I couldn´t sit still and I would not shut up to my friends about what a fantastic time I had. For me sitting with a stranger over a cup of coffee and talking is the ultimate pleasure. I´ve always suspected I had a latent addictive personality and that the right drug need only present itself and I would be on a downward spiral. Luckily I have discovered that my drug is talking with other people and after some thought this addiction has been with me my entire life.

I am a firm believer in the commonality of the human experience. There are some things ( and I am inclined to believe that most things) that each person feels, thinks, does, on a daily basis is pretty similar to something you or I can relate to. And rather than thinking that this is a sad an boring facet of our meaningless human existence, I believe that this is the most powerful force on our planet. I love that someone in southeast Asia can relate to the feeling of having a crush or getting in trouble with their parents. But common experience is even closer than that- One of the best parts of growing up is realizing that your parents have all the same insecurities and fears that you do. That they were young, that they did something stupid, that they broke someone´s heart, that they were disappointed, that they curse, that they like to laugh, that they have interests outside of what you like in your lunchbox.

According to my parents, when I was around 3 or 4, I asked my great aunt Mary Ellen, who was the epitome of grace and style, " Don´t you hate it when your underwear getes stuck in your crack?" She graciously responded " Yes, Emily I imagine that is quite uncomfortable." But don´t you absolutely hate that? Doesn´t everyone? And don´t you feel a little bit connected to someone after sharing that albeit gruesome piece of information? I´ve always told lots of stories, much to the chagrin of my much wiser and therefore quieter little sister. My parents knew every detail of my social life up until now( and even now they know a lot more than you would expect). I´ve also always read obsessively- books, magazines, articles whatever. I get little butterflies in my stomach when I see that someone else has started a blog. Who hasn´t dreamed about getting to read someone else´s diary if only to get a peak at someone´s innermost dialogue.

So many of my life decisions have been a quest to communicate - more often, in a new way, with new people. Deciding to study music, writing poetry, editing the newspaper, studying Spanish, starting ESL, trying swing dancing attempting daily to make someone (anyone!) laugh. I went through a brief period where I didn´t really want to talk to anyone. I would share enough so that people would feel comfortable, but there was a certain line that no one would cross. I felt a lot of guilt and shame for very normal things( hey I am both neurotic and a alumnae of catholic school - guilt and shame are what I do best). I wouldn´t let myself make a mistake. I believed that everyone was out to get me and that no one could relate to what I was feeling. I made up rules for myself and held myself to superhuman standards. But as hopefully you can attest, I have maybe come too far in the other direction. I have been known to be a bit blunt or forward. To share "interesting facts" with unsuspecting people ( example that comes to mind: when I told Jim at swing dancing what a terrible choice it was to wear bike shorts under my skirt. Whoops). Yeah sometimes it´s a little embarassing and sometimes I feel like the kooky girl but most times people laugh and share a similar sentiment and another glistening moment is born!

Sometimes I do feel like curling back into my shell and never coming out again, but I can´t deny need people and I wanna hear about you. Lets share a moment on this big empty planet. Lets talk about the moment you fell in love with your wife, how you´re afraid of the dark, what you wanted to be when you were little. Studying languages let´s you hear these little intimate details from even more people. It has happened to me in almost every new place I´ve been and nothing makes you feel more alive or connected to some spiritual force. People have many valid and practical reasons for studying language ( national security, expanding world markets, etc etc) but maybe if we are more willing to share a proverbial cup of coffee with someone outside our usual sphere the rest will follow?

So putting me, a communication addict, here in Spain is like letting Dr. Phil sit in a room all day and listen to his own voice. I wake up each day looking for a fix and the Spaniards are usually more than willing to provide. I´m growing up a lot and finding time for me. There´s an essay that appeared in TIME magazine about turning twenty. It´s not the most exciting age but there is a feeling that what lies ahead is the meaty stuff of life. I feel like I´m getting to know myself a little more everyday and so far I am having a lot of fun with Emily. The Emily with a lot less rules and much more faith in other people. So all of you reading this- thanks for being the best enablers out there. Your emails, comments, and words of wisdom are my daily fix!


One must be fond of people and trust them if one is not to make a mess of life. ~E.M. Forster

I think we may safely trust a good deal more than we do. ~Henry David Thoreau

My Diet

So before coming to Spain I had taken a food ethics course with my number 1 dude Joe Campisi. In addition to Joe telling us funny stories about Canada, his children, and stomping squirrels, we learned some pretty scary things about the food industry and its health implications. Also, my sister works on an organic farm and I have yet to find someone more passionate about agriculture, so needless to say I was being bombarded with food info at all times and I was having trouble finding something to eat at Marist that didn´t send me into a guilt spiral about where it came from, what was in it, or what person in a 3rd world country I was oppressing by stopping by the Caberet. I had just came off of an unsuccessful attempt a vegetarianism- apparently you CAN´T replace all your proteins with cheese and complex carbs and maintain an energy level appropriate for college life.

So I was not eating a whole lot of things - I was drinking tons of iced tea and water and grazing here or there. When I returned home, I laid a few no meat ground rules for my family. No pork. Only occasional red meat. And no Tyson chicken. Random rules but hey it helped me sleep at night. I ate veg when I could but I was just happy to have 3 meals a day that were not furnished by Sodexho.

Enter Spain and Paquita. I know a lot of very dedicated vegans and vegetarians but I challenge you to do it and not starve . There´s a museum of ham here. Nuf´said. Meat, eggs, dairy are abound and especially at our house.

A typical day of food for Paquita and I

Breakfast

Coffee
Orange Juice
( I call it my morning acid cocktail)
Galletas ( breakfast crackers for dunking)
Muffin

Lunch - the big one

Salad
Soup of some kind ( vegetables and oil or a creamy vegetable puree)
MEAT - fried chicken, veal, and sometimes fish
Bread
Fruit for dessert

Dinner

Could be leftovers from lunch but....
3 times this week Paquita and I have split a huge plate of cured meats and sheeps cheese. Or a big plate of fried things - like croquettes or hot dogs. With bread. And sometimes beer. Or toast with paté.

My friends joke with me " What plate of cholesterol did you and Paquita share tonight?"
I have no idea where any of the meat or cheese come from( but sometimes her parents send us salchinchon and chorizo- which are DELICIOUS on a pizza) and I don´t know that this pig had a happy life, but I imagine things aren´t too stressful for pigs in Spain ( wake up, wallow, oink, eat, siesta, repeat). All I know is that Paquita gives me lots of credit for cleaning my plate and not having any dietary restictions. Apparently some girls come to her house and only eat pasta. No bueno.

So I don´t know if I am exactly eating ethically but I am eating very well. Everyday I get my recommended daily allowance of fat, sodium, dairy, and caffeine. Maybe my food pyramid isn´t stucturally sound in my east-coast, pseudo hippie, crunchy liberal way but I´m happy, I sleep really well, and I´ve lost weight since I arrive. Sorry Joe and all my much more dedicated foodies but at least for now I am a devoteé of the Paquita Pyramid. ( Am I making it clear how much I like my señora?)

Also, in adjusting to the new eating schedule ( breakfast 9am lunch 3 pm dinner 9pm) my amigas americanas and I often have to stop for a little snack. It is the most un-Spanish thing ever to eat in public but we´ve been known to stand on Calle Zamora eating some type of shame filled pastry. The guy at the bakery knows us. So does the lady at the ice cream shop.

Empanada con manzana: 1,20€
Tiramisu ice cream: 1,50€
Knowingly fulfilling harmless stereotypes: priceless

We watched a movie last night about the famous Spanish artist Lola Flores. Here´s a link to one of her performances. Tonight I am going to the Salamanca short film festival. YAY! Will report back. I love that you are reading this. Hopefully you like it :-)

Love,

Emily

First Day of Classes!

Yesterday was my first official day of classes as a student at the Universidad de Salamanca and also the end of my lovely 3 week Spanish vacation. Sigh. I was ( and am) nervous about EVERYTHING in true Emily fashion. I channeled all of my worries into the one thing I felt I could control - my outfit. Definitely don´t want to look American but still want to look approachable( and a little bit adorable if possible). I went for my H&M shirt that I wore on my birthday, skinny jeans, my red flats, and my glasses ( extra security shield). Approachability achieved. Unfortunately I had achieved it 2 hours before class started, so I needed to find somewhere else to pace around so I didn´t drive Paquita loca. I went to the Intl students building and stole some internetz, all the while repeating my mantra " puedo hablar español. puedo hablar español."

My first class was Literatura Española and as far as the material I felt confident about it. I got to the classroom pretty early but it turns out there was a whole bunch of overanxious international students there too and I ended up making a few friends(!). The few Spaniards who were in the class came at a much more fashionable hour and sat together, so I just chatted amicably with the other intls. The teacher came in and I liked her at once. She had lots of curly dark hair, a big smile, good jewelery, and her name was Emily too. She is very patient with all us bumbling foreigners and class went smoothly. I have to buy a few books so I´m looking forward to a lazy afternoon at Cervantes - my favorite bookstore with very cute, scuffy, dudes working there.

Came back for lunch with Paquita. Ate quickly and passed out listening to my super American iTunes collection. Ran to the office to fill out my matriculation form and then bolted to my History of Spanish music class which was thankfully in the same building. This class was not quite as successful as the first. The class had little to no Spanish people in it ( again dashing my hopes of making Spanish friends) and it was also full of chicas freakis as Paquita would say ( read: gothchicks who study art history but in the 1994 sort of way). No one spoke to each other except the two very fit and good-looking German people and since I am neither of those things, I kept quiet too. Professor was very cool though. His name is Paco and we talked aboout things like whether there was sound on Venus ( No, there isn´t) and how everything is subjective and we get to take little field trips to see some authentic Baroque and Renaissance organs, that just so happen to be right around the corner. Plus he wears plaid and is a tall skinny little music dude. I´m gonna check out a few other music classes but I think Paco and I will be very happy together.

So that was my first day and I am about to embark on my second. Wish me luck. Hopefully I will have more wit and stories about how the universe likes to remind me that I am an mess, although a loveable mess. Like when I walked into a pole walking across campus yesterday while looking at my map. You can take the girl out of Poughkeepsie.....

When in Spain....

So most people reading this know that I am a bit of a homebody. I like going out dancing or for a beer once and a while but I am by no means a party animal ( anymore :-). But it seems as though my calm/senior citizen-esque lifestyle has come at the wrong time. I have been out and about every night this week doing something with Las Ferias - concerts, casetas, flamenco performances what have you. I have fought every single lazy thought that has entered my head and gone out with my API friends ( who are great by the way).

So having had a week chock full of activity I was thinking of taking last night off and being a bum - eating,sleeping, movies, iTunes the like. When I ran this plan by Paquita she was not happy. She said: This is very strange for such a young girl to like to spend so much time at home. You did not come to spain to sit in your room. You are not old like me - you should be out! I am going out! For me, it is veyr strange that you want to stay home.

Ouch. I have not received such a serious "get a life" talk in awhile. The only person who has ever given myself such a wake up call has been myself. The truth is I'm a little scared of going out. Meeting people is hard and I feel a lot of pressure to be funny and charming. I am also scared of getting hurt or losing control or acting like a fool. Although among my friends I am pretty gregarious and bold, I feel shy around new people( especially here) and I hate that. Old insecurities die hard. I feel like I am shrinking away from this experience, at least some of the social parts of it. I haven't made any serious Spanish friends yet, apart from Paquita. Parlty due to the language barrier, which I am working on. I just don't feel like I have social skills yet in Spanish. Hell it took me almost 20 years to get them in English.

Classes start Monday and that is a much for familiar way of making friends for me. My classes are:

Spanish Literature
Hispanic American Narrators of the 20th Century
History of Spanish Music
History of the European Integration

And in case you were wondering, I DID end up going out last night. We did a little time at the casetas and then we went back to our favorite salsa club and to one of the SB professors favorite bars. Fun times with the girls - real life chats and some QT with my beloved Mahous. I wish I could be patient and give myself a break and let this experience unfold a bit. But right now I can't and thats me. Despite my best efforts, I am having fun and meeting some nice people here and there. My Spanish is getting better too. With Paquita around giving me a few nudges there's still hope for me yet.

Tomato/Tomahto

So remember I mentioned some little language mishaps that were bound to occur? Well yesterday I fell victim to one of the worst in recent memory. Picture me and Paquita having a relaxing lunch of fish and salad. In an attempt to practice Spanish and get Paquita talking ( which usually isn´t a problem) I try to ask some questions about the differences between Spanish culture and American culture. The following dialogue unfolded:

Yo: ¿En España, tiene salmon? ( asking about what seemed to me to be an emblematically American fish. Pronounced with a silent L)

Paquita: ==quizzical look==

Yo: Es un tipo de pesca, no?

Paquita: oooohhhh salmón ( L is pronounced)

Yo: Si si si salmón (gah I´m terrible)

Paquita: Salmon ( american pronunciation) es algo MUY differente.

Yo: ¿Verdad ? ¿ Que es salmon ( american pronunciation)?

Paquita: Tu sabes que es... ( You know what it is)



After a moment I realized I had made a very American and a very funny mistake. I had inadvertently asked my señora if they had semen in Spain.

In case you were wondering, the answer to both questions is yes.

Also, these next two weeks are a big festival here in Salamanca to celebrate their patron saint : Virgen de la Vega. There are shows and parades all the time and little bars-casetas set up in the street. Also every night in the Plaza Mayor there is a big concert with artists from all around Spain. After much anticipation, all of the API girls got together to see the crown jewel of the ferias concerts : PITINGO. Paquita warned me that Pitingo was terrible and even threw in a rockin´ impression of him. I´ll let Pitingo and his stunning vibrato speak for themselves.

Hasta luego,

Fio

Pitingo Killing me Softly

Hola

Hi all. Blogs are boring sometimes and more often than not people get too busy living to write it all down. But in the interest of answering all your burning questions and having a record of my own transformation over these next 4 months, I have done the most cliché thing and started a blog about my life in Salamanca. I have been here a week and so far, it is the perfect city for me. And my trusty señora Paquita is making my stay a lot easier and more fun. So I will attempt to chronicle my linguistical mishaps, strange encounters ( that inevitably follow me), new friends, and classes here. I will do my best to be faithful to you my esteemed readers ( which is probably just my mom) because even though Spain is fantastic and exactly what I need, it is very hard to be away and I love hearing from you beautiful people, so this is my attempt at streamlining our communication. Please keep the emails and messages coming!

Con un abrazo fuerte,