Italy: Parts 1,2 and 3 in Photos

Venice: Part 1

















Florence: Part 2













Rome: Part 3

Italy: Or Pasta, Pizza and Pope...

What everyone said about being able to spend a month or a year in each of Italy’s great cities and still not having seen it all, it’s true. I’m now in a position to reconfirm that unjust cliché. The weather wasn’t so kind to us in Florence or Rome but excellent company made it pretty difficult to complain as well as the best food anywhere, or should I say on par with Mexican. So here’s the blow-by-blow:

Day 1:
Leave early Tuesday morning after having handed in all papers and leaving all presentations to the last day. As usual I cut it close and the airport bus was packed but nothing was keeping me from getting to Milan. I flew Ryanair to Milan and made my way via train to Venice. It wasn’t necessarily as easily done as I’ve just claim and I have virtually no Italian speaking capabilities, but around sundown I rolled into Venice. Though they share the same time zone, Italy gets much darker much faster than Spain and I panicked and walked past the hostel three or four times until I had the brainwave to check the number above the door with its own personal bridge over the canal. Sure enough, one lone bridge to one lone door labelled with a very small brass plaque “The Venice Fish” materialized just before I gave up on my search. It was a very nice place, right on one of the many canals and walking distance to the train. People were friendly and after calling home and being overwhelmed and calmed down by Jamie, I had a lovely night.

Day 2:
I got up early and made my way out to hit the streets of Venice. I bought an afternoon ticket for a boat tour to the islands surrounding Venice to see the glass factories and to see where they make lace, so I needed to make the most of my free morning. I made my way to the Royal Bridge where after taking some cheesy photos, I grabbed my first of many expensive meals. I continued on, bought myself my first pair of genuine leather, cashmere lined gloves. I then trekked over to St. Mark’s Square and watched a few idiots cover themselves in pigeons, which carry disease I might add. I went into the Basilica which was over the top, as I am growing to know. In the afternoon I did the tour, it was getting very dark and very chilly but I did get to see the guy blow a vase and a crystal horse in under two minutes. During the entirety of this voyage I ate and ate and ate. That night I went back to the Hostel, whose price included dinner, and had dinner and a movie with the gang of about 6.

Day 3:
I cleaned myself up and headed for the train which was coming around 11:30 to take me to Florence, where I would meet Elena, Clay and Dave. I waived sadly goodbye to Venice, the city on water that truly blew my mind and headed to yet another magical haunt. Elena and Co. met me at the station and we made our way to the hostel. There was lots of intentional graffiti and famous painting reproductions lining the walls there but we had a four person room which is a nice change from the group sleeps I’m used to. We ate, drank some wine, wandered through endless markets and ate some more.

Day 4:
Up early for a free tour of the city provided by the hostel. It was raining and we were chilly but the sights each were breathtaking. The tour was sort of the lesser known sights of Florence, as opposed to the super tacky ones. We went across the river to the Grand Palace, rubbed a lucky bronze pig for good luck and admired the jewels on the stores on the bridge. In the afternoon we tackled the Duomo in the rain. I thought I was going to have a stroke walking up the 490 odd steps but the paintings on the Cupula were worth it, not to mention the view from above where we could see for miles around. I even bought a yellow beret. We had donair kebobs for dinner and more pizza and slept like babies.

Day 5:
We caught the slow train to Rome which though half the price, cut into our precious and very pocos hours of daylight and once we got to Rome we ended up only seeing the Coliseum in the darkness, tremendous though it was. We ate, again, and got a decent sleep for the huge day we planned for. Our hostel was cheery, lots of nice people, no major complaints.

Day 6:
We got up early only to realize that it being Sunday meant that the Vatican museums would be closed, which were our first plan of attack for the day. Instead we went to the Vatican and toured the St. Peter’s Basilica, the Treasury and the Tombs while waiting for the man in the white hat, the Pope, to give his blessing at high noon. The Vatican is sort of unreal. I can’t really explain it, the faith and the excess juxtaposed at once is almost too much. When we got there the square was empty, when we left we were like bees swarming and coming down off of Pope high. The Pope’s blessing was in seven languages and the sheer volume of people present was out of this world. After we got some gelato, it’s as good as they say it is, and headed for the Pantheon. The Pantheon is one of the city’s oldest structures and once was believed to be the place where the Greek Gods were worshipped (my history might be a bit iffy here, but you get it). It was ominous looking but free so we wandered it. After that we headed, in the extremely heavy pouring rain, to Trevi Fountain and took the trademark tourist photos. Finally we hit the Coliseum, which was the marvel they say it is. We walked around the grounds until we could not take the wet any more and headed back to the Hostel. That night the Hostel provided dinner and we stuck it out to dry out.

Day 7:
Elena and Clay had to leave as their flight back was earlier than Dave and I’s, so Dave and I went back to the Vatican to see the Museums. The lines wrapped around several city blocks but moved quickly. Once we got in, we were crammed in lines like soldiers marched off to the paintings that would change our lives forever. Never in my life have I seen a place like that. The Sistine Chapel is pretty much icing on the cake but the paintings and sculptures of the endless corridors of the Museum are like the art equivalent of the witch’s house in Hansel and Gretel. After the Vatican, we saw the Spanish steps which I’m sure are much nicer in the summer when the flowers are out. We then made it back to the hostel, grabbed our bags and made the hour long train ride to the airport. Our plane didn’t leave until 8 but we got there early to get out of the rain. After more food and good conversation, we dragged our exhausted bodies to Seville and to our beds. One final day of classes awaited me and then three days and five final exams, two of which I am avoiding studying for to write this. Needless to say, I will be back in Italy in this lifetime, without a doubt.

I had been on the fence about this trip because of money and exams and weather but in the end this was one of my favourite trips if not just for Italy but for the people I traveled with. Elena is a friend I hope to stay in touch with in the future, she is a fellow Rotary Argentina Alumni and we get on like a house on fire. Clay is from New Mexico and is very sweet and southern gentlemanly but wouldn’t let Dave push him around. He’s here all year so we will probably go somewhere else or at least have some classes together next semester. Dave is from Chicago and he is definitely the craziest and funniest of the crew. He had me in stitches, me for a change instead of the other way around, the entire trip and I’m sure we’ll stay in touch. You can’t put a price on good company and I don’t know if I would have had as great of a time if I had been alone or with someone else, so good one Lauren!

Now I can almost officially (this time tomorrow when the exams are done) get excited for my parents arrival which is in one week. Not that I’m counting the days or anything. It’s going to be a packed few weeks but I can’t wait. Aren’t you all jealous? I know. Someone’s got to do it.

Re: Barcelona

Please forgive me if this post is a little nondescript, it isn't meant to be so but I've written and done so much school work this week (I know you don't believe it, do you?) that I'm finding it difficult to write when I'm not obliged to. However, Barcelona deserves a small write-up, infact it deserves a big write-up but let's not get too over-zealous. Here is a breakdown of my voyage:
Thursday night: Left Sevilla, via Vueling Air which is my new favourite airline, for Barcelona. Upon arrival, I caught a bus that comes every six minutes and took me within minutes to a five minute walk to my hostel. I was shocked at the efficiency of this operation. Got to the Hostel, which other than the 11 people I was sharing a room with, was pretty decent.

Day 1: I met some American gents that morning for breakfast who were planning on seeing the same sights as I was, so we decided to go together. We went to the Sagrada Familia Temple, whose photos don't even begin to do it justice. It is Gaudi's living, unfinished masterpiece. It's history is too intense to go into here, let's just leave it at the fact that he got hit by a tram and killed in 1926 and construction began in 1888 and in 2007 it is only half finished. Then we went to Park Guell, which was another Gaudi built masterpiece. We finished the evening in the blistering cold discussing whether or not China is going to invade the US. No one could believe that I was not worried about this. I was the only one there who didn't own a gun. Interesting.

Day 2: I decided to go it alone that day and left my American companions to themselves. I went to see Casa Batllo, which coincidentally ended up being on the same block as my hostel. This was my favourite Gaudi work that I saw and it is a house that he redid for a wealthy landowner in the 1920s. It is absolutely bizarre/wonderful/organic and I bought several coffee table books, which is truly how we must judge a good tourist trap. I thought of Jamie the entire time, with the wild wood work and lack of straight lines. The ceiling is the piece de resistance, with it's dragon-like roof line and mosiacs imitating scales. I spent the rest of the day walking around Barcelona, though it was bit chilly, I walked through downtown and to the World Trade Centre building at the harbour. Barcelona, like many cities in Spain, is a city of contrasts. The striking modernist architecture coupled with some of the oldest traditional buildings along the Mediterranean makes for an interesting skyline. This city fascinates me, also with the Catalan language and mild separatists sentiments, it was almost like being in another country.

Day 3: I made the trek to Montserrat. I left pretty early in the morning to take the Metro, then the train, then the cable car up the mountain to Montserrat and let me tell you it was a VERY CHILLY 10 degrees up there. I hiked by myself up into the rocky caves where the monks used to trek around. The Basilica was incredible and has one very famous Virgin Mary statue, famous because she is black in skin colour and we went like masses of herded cattle to the second floor of the Basilica to rub/kiss her appendages. Me, not so into that. It just doesn't seem sanitary to me but to each his own. By the end of the day I was frozen solid and I made my way back to Barcelona.

Day 4: I made my way back, early to Seville and just about missed my plane. Apparently going back, not so simple. Apparently early Monday morning everyone and their dog is going to the airport and though I was there an hour early I just made it to the airport in time and because so many of us were late, they made an exception and took us after the gates had already been closed. Needless to say, the plane was late and I didn't make it to class. Instead, I spent the afternoon talking jive with my roommates (which are another blog entry in and of themselves) on our new couch that our landlord bought us so that we don't have to sit around a dinner table and hold high court every time we're all in the kitchen. This makes us all very happy. The roommate's dog however, doesn't make me so happy at all. I'll get into that one next time.

So, that is all for Barcelona. Next bat channel: Tuesday I leave for Italy. I must remember to email the rents all the information re: hostels and contacting me. The Jude, she worries, don't cha know? I can already see Jamie shaking his head.

Until next time, hasta la proxima!

Barcelona and Montserrat...

School is getting hectic and I will write about the trip really soon but here's a taste of some photos for you!
Barcelona:

















Montserrat:


There are the links to the facebook albums should you want to see those:
Barcelona: http://ucalgary.facebook.com/album.php?aid=69064&l=ceabb&id=596070001
Montserrat: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=69067&l=b2b15&id=596070001
That's all for now! I'll write more soon, I promise!

Morocco: Or why with so many different foods available, it always ends up being meat, broth and tubers…

I have many things to say about the trip to Morocco, some good, some bad, some ugly but overall the experience was incredible. It was definitely something that I will remember forever and it has left me with an irking feeling of wanting to go back to try and understand what they’re all about over there but in the mean time, I will appreciate the standards of food safety and customer service that exist here in Spain.

This is a sample itinerary of what we did and saw. I will try and keep the comments to a minimum as I am still at the early stage of African culture shock where I complain, compare and beat my head against the wall in frustration and fear of never being able to “get it”. Here we go:

Day one: We met at 5am at the Torre de Oro here in Sevilla. We were up early, we were pumped, we were on the bus and then we were back asleep… We rode to Tarifa (2.5 hrs.), while the sun was coming up and boarded the ferry to Tangier. Once in Tangier we drove around on a brief tour and made our way (3.5 hrs.) to the ancient city of Volubilis. The ruins are pretty incredible, you can imagine the house of the old emperor and the mosaics are reasonable intact considering that they date back to 5^th or 6^th C. AD (my dates may be wrong, here). We continued on, with a brief but tasty (cookie filled treat) to Meknes. I would have loved more time here but our schedule was tight. We ended up at the hotel for the night, ate Tajine (the tuber/meat stew that we would soon get very sick of).

Day two: Back on the bus (approx. 4 hrs) to Ifrane, the Switzerland of Morocco. This small, touristy town is full of Swiss looking houses and official government residences. It is in the Medio Atlas Mountains and was quite chilly. The photo of me with the stone Lion was taken here. We continued on to Risani, out in the desert where we were to meet the jeeps that would take us out to the desert. Of course they were “late” and so we were escorted to the Burbur carpet manufacturing meca and given a “cultural presentation” that turned into a sales pitch for rugs. The Burbur men in blue outfits are infamous in the guide books and are said to be worse than any thieves and bandits. With that said, I obviously left with a rug. The salesman was very aggressive and if I hadn’t have been so mad and flustered in my French negotiation schemes, he probably could have made me cry. They did offer us good tea and Morocco pizza (calzone-esque) and finally we got in the jeeps and headed to the desert. We had a nice dinner, more Tajine, and Moroccan entertainment. We slept in carpet huts, multipurpose though they are, and waited for 4am.

Day three: 4am we were rousted from our beds and moved out to where the camels were sleeping. They too appeared grumpy to be up so early. We rode them for a half hour or so into the Sahara and watched the sunrise. It was magnificent, surprisingly chilly, but well worth the trip. Some trips only get a two minute parking lot tour with the camel which seems drastically inhumane so we were quite lucky. Of course, the entire time the guides/carpet/fossil dealers tried to sell us stuff on the basis of providing for their families and minimal tourist during the hot summer months. I laughed to myself when one of the camels peed on the guy. I know, it is a tough life out there but enough already. I’ve failed to mention that the other group had 5 people try to sneak across the Ferry by holding on under their bus to get to Spain. Unfortunately for them the our bus wasn’t going across, there was another waiting at the other end, and they all had to crawl out, covered in soot and find another unsuspecting vehicle. Of course, some people (I won’t name origins) tried to take photos and make a spectacle of it. We headed back from inland Morocco to Fez. We got there late and many had the shits. Thankfully, I did not.

Day four: A local tour guide took us to the main Mosque, though we weren’t allowed in and then guided us through the gong show that is the Medina. It was here where I was the most overwhelmed with smells, sights, tastes and people hawking their wares. The meat hangs, I guess Muslim tradition means that all the blood has to be drained out before it can be eaten so the cats (of which there are millions) wait underneath to drink the blood and get their protein. We went to several textile operations and one leather factory where we watched from a nice, relatively clean distance, while the men soaked the hides in coloured vats of dye in the afternoon sun. Yellow hides and satellite dishes mark the horizon inside the Medina. It’s something else. I’ve also forgotten to mention that inside the Walled-in downtown section there are no cars allowed so donkeys come zooming past and people yell “Balac!!” which means get the hell out of the way, and they mean it! Getting a taxi once you leave the Medina is almost impossible and all the children are more than happy to help you find one, but only for a price. Our guides were afraid to leave us in the Medina for the afternoon because they thought we would be sold drugs (which by the way, the most offers came from right outside the hotel) so they directed us to the newer part of the city. BIG MISTAKE. We did not want McDonalds. We returned to the Medina and battled it out on our own. It was worth it and I was able to get us around with my passable French. Our hotel was pretty posh and we ate well there. We went to a Moroccan ‘Show’ that night of music and belly dancing, and all and all we had a good time.

Day five: We got up early and headed to Chauen. This city is exquisite and I wish we’d had more time there. If I go back, it would be there and to Marrakesh (which we did not have a chance to this trip). Chauen is Spanish speaking, unlike the rest of the cities we had seen and I felt a little more at home. The city is painted Flinstone blue (as I’ve named it) to keep the heat and the mosquitos out. Our guide was a strange old man with one shred of a tooth left and claimed in his very high old voice that he was in the Lonely Planet video for the region. I have yet to verify this. Once again we were sold carpets and traditional burka type outfits, but this time we were much more ruthless. We ate, at a very very slow and shitty restaurant and were put back on the bus. We weren’t all that thrilled because Chauen had the best, relatively laid back shopping so far. However, our fate was back on the bus, where we would be all the way back to Tangier, ferry, Tarifa, Sevilla. We arrived back at 11pm and I headed home, this time on the city bus, back to my warm bed (which I’ve now put the down feather duvet on because 23 degrees to sleep is far far too cold).

That, my friends, is the recap. My thoughts on Morocco are yet to be determined. The culture shock was indeed aggressive, to say the least. The sights were breathtaking but I felt clearly out of place. My western viewpoint on women’s rights and cleanliness standards do not jive with the Moroccan way of life, but perhaps they don’t have to. Perhaps if we remove the value judgements and just take it in, we get the most enrichment out of it, but I will not buy another rug and I will not eat any more Tajine… for a while.

Roadtrip Andalucia...

It's been a little while since I last posted and I'm trying to get you all caught up on my whereabouts these past few weeks. It's been a whirlwind for sure and though a few moments of homesickness have risen their ugly heads, they have been swept away quite quickly.

The roadtrip was this: I rented the car, though I could not drive stick, and we were on our way. The other three, Chris, Jenna and Phil, shared the driving and the parallel parking while I took the helm for directions and got us lost a few times.


Day One: We didn't have pre-purchased tickets to set the Alhambra but we headed for Granada anyways. The Gods were on our side that day and we were at the head of the line, tickets and audio guides aplenty and we spent the entire afternoon until around 7pm discovering the wonders of the Alhambra. It was spectacular and a definite MUST SEE while here in Andalucia. The city of Granada is just as neat and the shopping there was by far the best I've seen in Spain so far. My parents and I will be heading there again come December and I can't wait to share this place with them. That evening we met up with our fellow Canadian friend Annie and her friend from highschool who was here visiting. We went to a sheesha bar and smoked tobacco and drank Arabic tea. It was a really lovely day.

Day Two: At 3am we had to pick up Chris from the bus station in Granada, is he is an Aupair here and couldn't leave the children he looks after until late Friday night. We picked him up and went back to the hostel to crash. The following day, if my memory is correct, we checked out the Granada cathedral and wandered around downtown and then we headed for Malaga. We took a seriously scenic route but the views were spectacular and I made sure we had snacks. We ended up in Malaga, found a place to stay and checked out the Picasso Museum that evening. It was this day that Jenna and I had the worst, most undercooked burgers of our careers. More on that later.

Day Three: Left Malaga and headed for Ronda. We didn't have much time in Ronda but Chris gave us the tour (since he's spent the most time there). Ronda is a quaint little mountain town with an incredible bridge and one of the oldest bullrings in Spain. During the drive to and out of Ronda, we saw many of Spain's landmark "Pueblo Blancos" or White Towns. These white towns are tucked away in the mountains, and all the buildings are painted white to keep the heat out, I'm sure in the same grain as in Greece. Anyways, the views again were gorgeous and the variety of landscapes available to us here in Spain is quite amazing. This evening Jenna left via bus back to Sevilla to be in school Monday morning and we headed off down the coast to Estepona.

Day Four: We arrived pretty late in Estepona and planned to sleep on the beach. After a great Italian meal in Estepona, which is on the beach just past Malaga but WAY WAY down the mountain from Ronda, we pulled up our stuff and attempted sleeping on the beach. Chris, as usual slept like a rock but because Phil didn't have a sleeping bag, I volunteered to share mine. Now don't get any romantic ideas here people, this is a mummy bag meant for one person and the drafts I kept getting were relentless. Around 5am we headed back to the car in an attempt to catch a few hours before heading back. Chris awoke around 7, well rested and ready to drive home, while Phil and I were cold and cranky. But, Chris drove us safely back to Sevilla and I made it back for my Monday afternoon class.

I had class Monday and Tuesday and then we left this past Wednesday for Morocco. Morocco is a whole other story which I will retell in a few days as I have to get going. Needless to say, after all this travel, I am glad to be back in Sevilla. I'm attempting to catch up on my sleep but with the International Film Festival in town, I'm trying to see some movies, so sleep is taking a back seat. You will know this if you've talked to me lately, I've been up until 1 or 2am with my mind racing. Oh well, you sleep when you're dead I guess.

One misses the Rock when one isn't on it...

Live from The Rock, it's Saturday night! Well, actually now it is Sunday morning but you get the idea. Yesterday I went out on a limb and joined a student tour to Gibraltar. By out on a limb I just mean that I decided not to just take a train/bus to Gibraltar and fend for myself. I'm sort of skeptical of these little student tours because most of them are riddled with American students all travelling in packs talking about getting drunk at every moment of the day. I figured that in going with a tour, even if I was by myself, I wasn't really by myself. And so I got to benefit from not having to make my own travel arrangements and not having to organize bus tours and guides and I was pretty happy with the final result.

Yes there were lots of annoying Yanks, but the two girls who guided the tour were lovely and our bus guide once we got to Gibraltar was a funny old Brit who knew all sorts of things due to his 28 year self imposed exile at Gibraltar. It was a beautiful clear day and we could see the tip of Africa and we could see the two ocean currents meeting along the Straight. We saw St. Michael's Cave, which was once converted to a military hospital during World War 2 when Hitler was trying to take Gibraltar, to a concert hall as of today. The monkies were out in full force, playing savage for the tourists. I was thrilled but had to wash all my clothes upon arriving home.

All in all it was a good trip and a pretty decent way to see and appreciate the Rock. I hope to be able to go back there when the parents come, but we'll have to wait and see. Next week I'm road tripping around Andalucia with some friends, so stay tuned!

a little bit about school, though I really should be studying...

Here it is, as promised, a bit about school here in Sevilla. Many have asked if I am infact going to school as all I seem to do is travel, but I do and here's the proof: Three midterms in a row this week. I will give you all a break down of what classes I'm in at the moment, and hopefully you will be as interested as I am. I actually have gotten pretty lucky because my professors are all really nice, fair and easy going. The only thing that they are really strict about is attendance and no eating in class, but other than that they are very nice. Our school used to be a jail, which leaves a little to be desired as far as ambiance is concerned but that's okay. So the course load is as follows:

1. History of Spanish Cinema After the Democracy: This is a bit of a misnomer because we study pre-Franco cinema just as much as post-Franco but that's okay. So far we've talked about film history and seen some pretty intense films that have come out of the oppression of fascist dictatorship but we've also had the chance to go to the movies with our prof to see some contemporary stuff (in Spanish, of course).

2. Translation: This class was 14 people and is now split into 10 and 4 (I am one of the lucky ones in the group of 4 so we get lots of attention). This may sound boring but this has been the most surprising of my five classes in that I am really learning alot!! We've translated from both English and/or Spain into the other, we've done written and oral translations and so far we've looked at medical texts (studies on diabetes here in Spain), news texts (mostly articles about the war in Iraq), tourism texts (on various landmarks) and after the midterm we will start translating literary texts (probably parts of the Quixote) and audio-visual texts (my final project is to translate part of an episode of Desperate Housewives).

3. History of Spanish Art: This is one of my most difficult classes as the prof speaks really fast and moves though a lot of material. So far we've discussed Roman, Gothic, Almudejar and Renaissance architecture. We've visited the Museum of Fine Arts here in Seville as well as a special church that is normally closed to the public but was open only for one week which was Architecture Week here in Sevilla.

4. Spanish for Business: This class is pretty much what is sounds like. We are trying to develop our business vocabulary in Spanish, which has surprisingly been a challenge but also has been helpful. We've learned to discuss different types of companies, investments, written our resumes in Spanish and practiced job interviews in Spanish. This week we watched a really good documentary on the store "Zara" which is sort of a Spanish miracle that started out as one store in Galecia and has grown to 540 stores worldwide in such places as Tokyo, Dubai, Milan, New York, Paris and Vancouver. In Dubai, they close the store 5 times a day to accommodate the people who need to leave the store to pray and there it is especially difficult to predict what types of clothes women will buy because they are fully covered all the time by their burkas.

5. Lastly, History of the European Union: This is my only class in English and our prof is a funny guy from England. It is slightly more difficult as it is in English but the subject matter again is surprisingly interesting. The ins and outs and the so-far miracle status of the European Integration Project is something that truly blows my mind. Imagine uniting throngs of different countries, languages and cultures, adopting a common currency and economic policy and creating brand new institutions to manage all of this. Then imagine it, through all the bureaucracy, having a positive affect (this is debatable, as I've learned, but my interpretation is that so far it's been a relative success) on its members.

So that's the description of my classes. It's a heavy load but I'm glad I'm doing it and it is a different change from the same-old same-old at U of C. Now you can all rest assured that I am in classes, that this hasn't all just been a figment of my imagination (or yours!).

Just a little update...

Things in Seville are busy as usual. The days pass with such intense vigour, that I really can't describe it. The heat comes and goes and as much as the school work ebbs and flows, I feel a monsoon coming on. Last weekend I took a brief day trip to Cadiz, which in on the Costa de la Luz (if I'm not mistaken), and it was beautiful. My main objective was to see the cathedral and hit the beach. Both we accomplished. I climbed up the bell tower with exceptional views, as I probably mentioned in my last post but it's worth mentioning again. Then, on the Sunday I went to a Seville Futbol Club soccer match. Unfortunately Sevilla lost but the game was fun and I was in good company so I really can't complain.

This weekend I had planned to do the same day trip thing except this time head to Malaga. However, as this weekend was the weekend of Santa Pilar, the Patron Saint of Spain, there were fewer trains running and much more people going places. The trains were all booked so I decided to stick around Sevilla, which also did not disappoint as I got on my bike and toured around and spent the afternoon/evening with Phil and Chris playing guitar, eating and drinking rum and it was nice. Tomorrow we're hitting Sevilla's last bullfight of the year, hopefully it's not sold out, but I guess we'll see.

Then it's back to the grind, my first midterm is this week with three more the following week. Then people, the countdown to Morocco begins. I keep saying I'm going to tell you more about school, but it just seems so far on the back burner in terms of all the other stuff going on. Needless to say, I am still in school, despite being in Spain they still have the audacity to give us exams and homework and and and. It's really not that bad, one day I'll give the school part its deserved portion of blog glory. But not today.

Can you tell school and life is getting hectic??

Hello everyone!
Things are getting pretty busy so I'm just going to throw up my photos from London, Portugal and I will get my most recent ones up of this past weekend in a few days.

London was fabulous, though cold, as usual. Lagos, as I wrote, was a gong as usual. This weekend I rented a bike again and toured around the city. Then I went to Cadiz, a lovely coastal town with quite a history and quite a cathedral, for the day by myself for an excursion. I took the two hour train and climbed up the famous cathedral bell tower whose views you will be gushing over. Then I went to a party on Saturday night and today, Sunday, I went to my first Spanish league soccer game. Though Sevilla lost, the game was great and I picked up a few new swear words to add to my vocabulary.

A brief word on school, so that you know that I'm still going: My five courses are as follows: 1. History of Spanish Art (in Spanish), History of Spanish Cinema After the Democracy (in Spanish), Spanish for Business (Spanish), Translation (Spanish) and History of the European Union (in English, with a lovely British bloke who is a great prof). Classes are picking up and the workload is infringing upon my liberal travel schedule but so far classes are good, profs are good and my mexi-spanish is being understood, so I have no complaints.

I will post more later, but that's what I've been up to the last few weeks! Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Lagos and the Rising Cock...

I don't have much time to update but I know that when I get back from Jolly Old England next week, Lagos will have seemed like a blur (as does everything else so far, my GOD!) so I thought I better at least write something and maybe I'll get some pictures up next week.

So, Renee and I got out of class on Friday at 2:50pm and the bus was leaving at 4:15 and we thought we'd have more than enough time to make it to the bus station from school. We thought wrong. I made it, after having walked through all of downtown and managing to get a cab when I was only two blocks from the station. Renee, on the other hand, ran the whole thing with an 8 foot surfboard and managed to pound on the side of the bus as it was pulling out across the bridge to leave down and threw herself and her stuff onto the bus. Everyone was cheering, I was almost in tears and everything about our trip from there after went down in dramatic fashion.

We arrived at the Rising Cock Hostel (that in and of itself is a whole other story) around 10pm and the Aussies who were there were celebrating their last night and we got dragged (yeah right!) into helping them. We arrived back to the Cock at 4am and our friend Jaci was meeting us at the hostel at 10am because the previous night's bus had been full.

We spent the morning and afternoon on the beach and I nursed an incredible hangover and ended up barfing in a garbage can. Hence why I definitely tamed it down the next night. The next night was about the same only Renee and Jaci were the ones who out performed me. Anyways, Sunday we again went to the beach and we were supposed to leave on the bus back at 3:3opm, read: Supposed to. We got to the bus station, just in time yet again, only to find that we were supposed to confirm our tickets a day in advance (no one mentioned this) and that we were SOL. The next bus was leaving at 5:30am, did we want it? HECK YES, because we couldn't stand another night of drunken Aussies...

So, instead we spent the evening on a 2 hour sail boat cruise to the caves in and around the Lagos coast. We made dinner on the boat and then once we got back tried to tackle the issue of where to stay until 5:30am. The caves and the scenery, I should just mention, are magnificent. However, I think Lisbon is a better plan as Lagos is simply an English/Aussie/German haven and minimal culture was observed there.

We were going to stay on the beach but realized that we shared it with some huge cockroaches and that we would probably get robbed (plus it was really cold at night). We crashed at a restaurant for an hour after eating there but they soon told us to move on. We went back to the hostel and asked to sleep on the couches, as we were not going to pay for a night that we weren't going to have full use of (especially at that place, people were just getting home when we were leaving for the bus).

Anyways, we got the bus at 5:30 and just made it back intime for my noon class. I was gross, sandcovered and in need of some major sleep but the trip was so worth it. We had a blast and I can honestly say that coming to this continent has been the best decision I've made so far.

I hope you are all extremely jealous and a huge thank you to my parents for helping make this a reality for me!

A visit to the Real Alcazar...

Yet again, another week has flown by. This time the weekend was capped off with a trip to Lagos, Portugal to get some much needed rest and relaxation. I don't know that we got a whole tonne of either but we sure had a blast. I will post pictures of Portugal soon but for now lets talk about one of Sevilla's must-see sights: The Real Alcazar.

Here's a brief explanation, Wikipedia style:
"The Alcázar of Seville (Spanish "Alcázares Reales de Sevilla" or "Royal Alcazars of Seville") is a royal palace in Seville, Spain. Originally a Moorish fort, the Alcázar (from the Arabic القصر, al-qasr, meaning "palace") has been expanded several times. The Almohades were the first to build a palace, called Al-Muwarak, on the site. Most of the modern Alcázar was built over Moorish ruins for King Pedro of Castile (also known as Pedro the Cruel) with construction beginning in 1364. Pedro used Moorish workers to build his palace giving it a distinctly Islamic design. The palace is one of the best remaining examples of mudéjar architecture, a style under Christian rule in Spain but using Islamic architectural influence. Subsequent monarchs have added their own additions to the Alcázar. Charles V's addition of gothic elements contrasts with the dominant Islamic style."

**Note that it is also an UNESCO World Heritage Site.**

I know I shouldn't do the ol' cut and paste but I'm tired and I wanted to sum in up relatively easily. The Real Alcazar contains many different parts, many contain slow trickly fountains (traditional muslim structures) which even when packed with tourists, the serenity still flows. The huge gardens snuck neatly behind high walls right in the downtown core speaks to many of Seville's greatest treasures who are tucked behind heavy canopies of palm/orange/lime or beauginvelia.

The Real Alcazar is a must see while in Seville. It costs 7 euro to get in (unless you wheel and deal for the student rate, which then means sometimes free) but it is well worth it. The brilliantly coloured tapestries and mosaics remind why Spain often does it best.

I just can't believe that I'm really here and that I'm so lucky to have the opportunity to do this. I know I will look back and believe that this was one of the greatest decisions of my life, but I feel like I already know that.

change is as inevitable as breathing...

Today is the 17th, one full week since I last posted. I can't wait until I've been here long enough that I stop counting the days or the weeks and just enjoy it. Everyone knows about the ol' biological clock but no one ever mentioned the traveler's clock; the one where every second that slips by is a moment where you could be savouring the vast array of nations now at my back door. Alas, where is that happy medium between home and away...

"Between the conception
And the creation
Between the emotion
And the response
Falls the shadow
Life is very long" (TS Eliot).

Anyway, I am settling in pretty well here in Sevilla. I must admit that I've struck gold in regards to several things here including my chosen city (which is spectacular once you learn to tame the beast that is Seville public transit) and my chosen digs (central, low-key, no nagging host families, etc.).

Yesterday we got bicycles and rode around the city. Biking is strange in that you don't realize that you're hot and sweaty and Oh-my-God it's 35 degrees and UV index 8 until you stop for a breather. I didn't learn to properly (read: without training wheels) ride a bike until I was 14 years old. I'm always a little nervous when I get on one because I feel like I'm at a disadvantage because I learned so late, however once I'm on one I feel like the 11 year old who is a fervent bike rider (and has been since she was 8) and I'm in heaven. This has led me to become a Sevici program participant. The long and the short of it is that you join for 10 euro a year and you get to ride these specific bikes that have something like 150 locations around the city and when you're done you drop it off at any one and you're done. No hassle. No bike maintenance. No storage. Sounds like a good idea and this afternoon I'm officially going to have purchased my membership.

Anyways, school is a trip but I'll leave that for another time. So too will I for my next trip, to London, at the end of the month. I'm also looking into Christmas plans for the parents but I'm getting far too far ahead of myself. Right now I have to grab the bus out to the urban ghetto that ate our school and do translations for the better part of the early afternoon.

No one also mentioned that I would want to travel more than school on this school abroad program. Tisk tisk.

my new digs: school style...

Today was the first day of school, as it were. After two buses and un monton (mountain) of unruly humanity that I encountered en route (mostly unruly Americans boasting about how they plan to get shitfaced every night and rock out while they're here living with eachother in flats because homestays were for sissies), through the urban ghettos on the outskirts of Sevilla, I arrived at school. The commute is for sure an hour. No sense in complaining but boy is the traffic here a bitch.

And so, I arrive in a herd (collective noun for arrogant Americans, duly noted) of anglo-pigs who all seemingly know one another, except pour moi who is reading a Spanish daily paper in hopes of blending in. They are met by a guide of some kind who is quick to point out that I am not part of their group and that his tour is private. I thank him for his courtesy (in Spanish) and ask him what/where am I supposed to go and at what time is the placement exam. No one seems to know. I feel no sense of urgency and simply shrug my shoulders (really, I'm not making this up). Having had an infinite number of profs no-show while in Cuauhtemoc, I think to myself, perhaps we should be thankful that at least there was no transit strike, a la London, in progress. A strange little American finds me in a mad panic as she is in the same state as I and we might be missing the exam and then we may get kicked out of school and then kicked out of the country and coincidentally this would lead to her, and for some reason also my, demise. She seemed further disconcerted by my lack of concern as I was more impressed that the sun was shining and there was a breeze, for once.

Eventually we found out our place, I found the rest from my group (with whom I seem to get on splendidly) and the exam was a joke. Surely five years of Spanish training has garnered me more than being able to explain how much a car would hypothetically cost during the Franco era, should one have been allowed the privilege to buy said car. Needless to say, I was one of the first ones done and the rest was history.

I came back into town with two of the girls from our group (we are six in total) to use internet, go pee, see downtown and gorge on tapas (as one must do while in Spain). They were impressed with my digs, as both are living with families and I was reassured that my loneliness was not unique.

I've just met the last of my house mates, a truly strange batch we are, and I'm feeling rather at home, of all places. I know culture shock is a bitch and it comes in waves, but it really is much easier this time than last and we girls are already planning our first trips.

How's that for not having had a tour guide? And why do Americans need a guide? Don't they know everything anyway?

My new digs...

Up the marble staircase to the first floor is #35- 1B... My new digs.

Hello all and welcome to my latest interneting attempt to keep you all posted about my Spanish goings on. I'm not going to lie, today I slept most of the day and when looking for reasons to get out of the 30 degrees + loft bed that you have to climb to get into, I could find only that I was extremely hungry, but alas the kitchen was not stocked. Tapas? Si, senor! (Paella was my first choice since I could say it AND knew what it was.)

Around 3pm I ventured out into the city which was virtually dead, due to the heat as I already mentioned. I've unpacked, purchased a bus pass and plotted my route to school and gotten the essential groceries. Now I'm attempting to post some photos of my digs. Please be patient with me. As far as the journey over here, no lost luggage, decent food, ample medication to sleep on the plane, and after all that Tomas (my new landlord) was there in fine form to pick me up. Not bad and all in a day's work.

The photos have captions that may be too small to read (click on the image for a bigger one). I haven't figure this blog thing out but do your best to get your bearings. And always remember, when in Spain, heavy on the "th" in Gracias. That's right, there is no "th" but you MUST PRONOUNCE IT ANYWAY!