Let them eat cake

In celebration of Pascua (I have two breaks this semester, and this is the second one), we decided to have a cake party at the park. So we went to Mercadona and picked out a big chocolate cake. But then Caitlin had to skidaddle (next time!), which only left Katelyn and I. So we instead picked out two bitty chocolate cakes. They were so delicious ( I don't usually care for chocolate), filled with cocoa cream and strawberry preserves, covered with a dark chocolate ganache. I wonder why they packaged the cakes in pairs. Hm. Anyhow, I think it's nice because sweet treats taste better when shared. That's why Twix candy bars are the best.

While Katelyn and I ate the cakes [with our hands because we wanted to be frugal and thus forego forks], we talked about how studying abroad sort of speeds up the growing-up process. I know I've already mentioned a similar thought before, but it even applies to friendships. Usually I make friends (not acquaintances) slowly, mostly because trust isn't instant and neither is vulnerability. But being in a foreign country and belonging to a program where no one really knows each other sort of forces us to speed up the friendship process. Sure I might not have caught a person's last name, but we do chummy things like make plans to get coffee in the afternoon. Loneliness is a natural thing to feel at times, but being lonely all the time probably means that you're actually quite alone, and I think we as humans naturally try to avoid coming to that conclusion. So we smile more and start conversations before class with strangers. And before long, you no longer find yourself hanging out with people just to hang out, but you hang out so you can spend time with people you truly care about.

Given that the people in the program come from different parts of the US, many goodbyes in May will be real (not the see-you-in-the-fall) ones. But this makes me think of what someone once said at a graduation dinner; she acknowledged one particular girl even though their friendship was newer than any of the others present in that room. She said that most people wouldn't make an effort to invest in a friendship with someone who was leaving when there were other friendships to be made that had more "potential." Then she relayed to the audience the words of her friend, words that put that mentality to shame: "Hey, you're leaving soon. I don't know you very well, but I better get to know you fast if we want to be friends. Let's make every moment count." Investing in this friendship wasn't going to broaden her pool of potential roommates or give her a speed-dial contact to call for an impromptu lunch the following year. I think it makes sense that the graduate acknowledged this friendship out of any others that night because it was a selfless friendship, profound in its simplicity--no hidden agendas, no selfish gain. I heard this speech seven years ago and I still think about it at least once a week.

So where does the growing-up have to do with this? Well, I recognize and see. I recognize the beauty of living in such a way and see that I have much improvement to work towards.

Sorry for all the typos. I'm very sleepy now.

Flower pots on a yellow table

I took this picture during Fallas, a Valencian festival. Now that I think of it, it's pretty amazing that I found such a calm little spot amidst the bustle of an extra two million people that week.

Danny is watching Arthur in Spanish right now (I can hear the music from my room).

I wish I could join him, but this post-vanguardia reading must be done.

Father's Day Lupper

Found some pictures that I took on March 19th, which was Father's Day in Spain. My padre's name is Frank, and I actually think he made this meal, haha. But Danny made his daddy little scribble pictures, and Abby made a buttery and delicious pear crumble pie.

At first my host family thought it kiiinda odd that I take pictures of what we eat. But now they're used to it, and Justin, I hope you're a thankful child.

The other day a girl from the program mentioned that I seemed to really love food. Yes, but how did you know, I asked. Besides the fact that my eyes wandered off to every warmly-lit restaurant as we strolled down the street, she noticed that the Facebook album where I keep all my Spain pictures consisted mostly of edibles. I guess now would be the time to nonchalantly confess that Iateanotherbaguettetodayintwentyminutes.

A casual soiree

When: Last night/this morning

Why: Sometimes a girl's night with chitter-chatter, munchies, and a sentimental movie (The Notebook in our case) is just what we need.

Where: In a cozy little [madre-less] apartment.

How: Katelyn and Rebecca were gracious hosts, Claudia bought the movie, and the rest of us brought treats. I contributed crackers with Brie and strawberry jam, mosto (which is this really yummy grape juice and tastes better than wine in my opinion), and some antipasto type stuff.

I miss it already.

A day in the country

On Friday, we went to Albufera, a place known for its tranquility and boat rides. It's only a twenty minute bus ride from Valencia, but there's a stark contrast between Valencia's busy, dizzy city-ness and Albufera's so-quiet-you-can-hear-flies-whisper ambiance. I felt like we were on a field trip because around twenty of us got on a rather aged boat while a local showed us around, and we sat like timid second graders trying to avoid the occasional splashes while eating our packed lunches.

Albufera isn't gorgeous, but its air is beautifully fresh, and we loved breathing it into our diaphragms.

Afterwards, some of us stayed a while longer and ate our bodacillos at a rustic little picnic table, and this was my favorite part. One of the greatest gifts this study abroad opportunity has given me is the experience of leisure and the enjoyment of each other's company. Sure we still have homework, but we can't help but recognize the fullness of each day and the less-stressed perspective that comes with that.

When we returned to Valencia, most of us got some gelato, but I instead went to the chocolateria and got some churros in order to satisfy a persistent craving. If you look at the second to last picture, you will see that my smile was ripping out of its seams just thinking about eating the greasy little treats.

Tonight is chick flick night because Katelyn and Rebecca's madre is off to clean her beach house, and she's allowing them to invite us over to watch The Notebook. I'm quite looking forward to it because it's been a while since I've done something girly and reminiscent of the slumber party high school years.

Weekend is here! Lovely.

The longest post this blog will ever see

We arrived in Milan last Saturday night. Our first stop was the Stazione Centrale, where we perused possible day trip destinations. Then, while asking for directions, we acquainted ourselves with Sylvia, a mid-fifties American woman who is from Ohio but has an apartment in Germany, and travels everywhere in between (Greece, Italy, France etcetera). She said her lifestyle was only possible because she didn't buy "boats and waste money" like other Americans. But she also told us that maybe she should have married and had kids after all. In ten minutes, she shared with us what gives her meaning in life (travel) and what haunts her (regret). There wasn't much more to say after that, but I haven't stopped thinking about her ever since. I usually forget a name the second it escapes the tip of one's tongue, but I haven't forgotten this lady because she bears the same first name as Sylvia Plath. And I find it somewhat ironic that she is living the life that Plath would have longed for.

After parting ways with Sylvia, we found our cute little motel. In the morning, we stopped by a store for some sweet, crispy, soft-on-the-inside pastries and bottles of water. Then we trekked back to the train station and realized what we didn't realize the night before, which is, that train stations can be works of art. It was really beautiful and grand, but a sad reminder of Benito Mussolini, the man who made its completion possible in the same city where he would eventually be assassinated.

While in line, we met a fellow sojourner from Chile, a law student named Felipe. It was such a nice feeling to once again be a part of Spanish conversation. When in Spain, Mexico was home. When I got to Italy, I suddenly started to get very homey feelings for Spain.

So we were in line. But for what? Tickets. To where? Well, we didn't officially decide that until we got to the ticket booth. This spontaneity sort of became the trend for the rest of the trip. Instead of maps, we just went wherever our eyes saw liveliness or beauty or weirdness. Instead of a guide book, we asked locals where to eat. Speaking of food, I guess we had just gotten used to Spanish 10 PM dinners, so we ended up eating at some interesting places that were owned by non-Italians since the purely Italian places closed their kitchens early. On the first and last night, we went to a Japanese-Italian place. We tried gnocchi, tortellini, eggplant pizza, and a ham/artichoke/mushroom pizza at this restaurant. Everything was quite tasty, especially the pizzas.

Oh, I forgot to mention that before arriving in Italy, we spent half a day in Belgium. Belgium was dark and gloomy. They make yummy waffles. The end.

Day 1: Belgium

We visited the open air market just as it was closing, the Longchamp store, and shared a waffle in a swanky yet kitsch little bar.
Day 2: Milan

We visited the Duomo [the world's fourth largest cathedral which took five centuries to complete], La Scala [a lovely opera house], Castle Sforzesco [with rooms decorated by Da Vinci], and a Milanese fair [they give chubby pig stuffed animals as prizes.] We ate an outdoor pizza lunch with the cathedral in full view, and bought cones of gelato and ate them in the courtyard of the castle. The cool afternoon winds battled the warm sun, and this climatic tension felt so wonderful. (Claudia and I agreed that this simple moment was our favorite trip moment of all). Many people say Milan is only about fashion and commerce, but we definitely found more than that.

Day 3: Venice

Right as we were getting off the train in Venice, Claudia and I came across Felipe again, and we became a trio for the day. Despite Venice's foggy sky, it is enchanting. I read somewhere that the first thing one should do in Venice is to get lost, and that is what we did. We also visited St. Mark's Basilica and ate spaghetti. On the train ride back, we had warm conversations about what our families were like, the differences and similarities of our respective cultures, and about grace. For dinner, we wanted some Indian food, and we were able to eat at a little to-go shop just as the owner was closing. The owner's name was Mahmut, and I think I remember him saying that he was Persian. Anyways, we ordered chicken with naan, and he gave us complimentary fresh salads while we asked him questions about his life and he asked some about ours. I think he was the kindest person I encountered throughout the trip. Even as we left his deli, Mahmut told us to be careful walking back and stood outside his door to make sure nothing happened to us on his street.

Day 4, part I: The day we missed the train. So we ate another pastry breakfast, pressed our cold cheeks against the window displays of cakes and pies, and found a park that had those ride-able bouncy animals. This day encouraged me to learn to take life in stride, something a busy college life has muted away for a very long time.

Day 4 Part II: Verona

We finally did get on a train headed for Verona. Claudia and I walked from one end of the city to the other, and although our feet became well-acquainted with its cobbled streets, there was so much architectural and historical richness that I know for a fact that we didn't absorb it all, even though I think we tried very hard. Verona is the setting for Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.

Two households, both alike in dignity

In fair Verona, where we lay our scene

-William Shakespeare

It's not surprising that Shakespeare believed Verona to have what it took to host and coax such a passionate romance.

At the end of this trip, I got three perspectives of Italy: Milan showed me its urbanity, Venice its quaintness, and Verona was a mix of the two, giving me a glimpse of Italy as I imagined it to be: modernized, but with historical roots that would never let its people forget what profound ground they walk on every day. And I was glad that I didn't bring my portable music device, or else I would have missed the accordion music floating throughout the streets.

And Claudia makes the perfect travel buddy. I hope we have more adventures together!
This was the first trip I took to another country without my parents and outside of the context of school. The wandering, the decisions, and the observations were my own, and I think the trip as a whole grew me up a little. It not only brought me out of my comfort box, but it reminded me I had one. Studying abroad doesn't automatically do that for you, since there's a lot of familiarity that comes with taking classes and having American friends. This trip not only makes me want to explore the world s'more, but it also makes me want to pay more close attention to surroundings that are already familiar to me because I'm sure the familiarity has caused me to glaze over details that I should truly appreciate. Anyways, time to go to class now.

An odd but enjoyable dinner

What I ate for breakfast: magdalenas and a cup of pineapple juice

Every Monday, there's a thing called "festival de cine" where a Spanish movie is shown in the little theater at the center. Today being a pretty free day, I decided to watch the featured flick, which was Return to Hansala. Since my last class ended at 6:50 PM and the movie started at 7 PM, a bunch of us scurried off to Mercadona to buy some munchies. I bought little flaky pastries filled with cheese and pate, some ham-flavored corn chips, and lemon soda. As we entered the darkened theater room just minutes after the movie started, some of us shared our snacks. I tried an apple-nut cookie from Claudia and a chunk of baguette with Brie from Kaitlyn. The movie was about a man whose job consists of taking back the bodies of Moroccan men to their homeland after they drown in the sea amidst attempts to escape to Spain. It presented a passive but profound perspective on the complexities of illegal immigration. Humanizing an otherwise sharply political matter can sometimes do us a bit of good, I think. But only if it serves as a launching pad for further investigation through reading the newspaper or some other informative resource. Us college students get all fired up on this or that issue, we say we need change, but that change isn't going to come from wearing a tee shirt with some dramatic tagline or by becoming a fan of some political figure or issue on Facebook. The problem is that we think doing these things proves an audacity within us. With this false assumption, the feeling of being responsible, concerned citizens comes too easily to us and there is no urgency to do more, such as read. And not just read the essays and articles that we know we'll agree with, but also the ones that make us feel uncomfortable because they bring legitimate arguments that merit a careful analysis, giving us the opportunity to re-access and/or strengthen our stance along the way.

Truth be told, this post is written partly out of guilt. The healthcare reform bill passed yesterday, but I haven't done any significant reading on it since arriving in Spain. Studying abroad is certainly no excuse to be ignorant of my own country's political and social condition, especially since I have Internet access. And while I'm being all truthful here, I might as well admit that sometimes (a lot of the time) politics is boring, hard to understand, or both. But that isn't an excuse either. I don't think I deserve to feel like a responsible citizen until I actually understand what we as Americans should be responsible for.

What a week, I'm dizzy

Fallas break has begun!

What better way to start off Spring Break Pt. 1 than with a birthday celebration? After our Fallas seminar, we walked a [half?] mile or so to a Chinese restaurant that had a wok buffet ( you could pick your own combination of raw veggies, seafood, and meat, and they " wokked" it for ya.) I think this is my 17th consecutive post on food, but this is not a surprise. Anyways, our dear friend Abby is twenty-one! It was a delightful dinner. Afterwards, I returned home to help my host family prepare a candle lit dinner for Padre, who also had a birthday. But we actually don't know how old he is because his parents lost the documents. Or something like that. He thinks he is fifty-one, but I told him that for all we know, he might be thirty-three. I wish I could forget how old I am so that I could just turn a random age every year.

Well then. I'm once again blogging while sleep-deprived, so I hope I haven't butchered zee grammar too much (my mom usually doesn't read my blog, but since I hadn't called in a few days, she checked it only to find that "my grammar needed a bit of improvement." Oof.)

Spring break is here. I feel like a big sigh of relief. And Claudia and I are going on a bit of an adventure for the next five days!

The day I ate too much bread

I didn't realize how messy it was. Well now you know.

Today was the day I wrote my first five page literary analysis in Spanish.

And the day I ate too many carbs. Ugh, I never thought I'd feel woozy at the thought of an organic compound. Don't be too shocked: [the pause where I debate whether or not to actually expound, but piggies must not be ashamed] I ate a strawberry jam sandwich for breakfast, a baguette sandwich (ham and tomato, drizzled with olive oil) for lunch, and seriously, it should have stopped there because I forgot to bring my wallet to the center today. But you know that moment when you reach into the crevices of your backpack thinking *just maybe* there might be a few coins and much to your delight, your fingertips come into contact with magical money --a sign that you and an afternoon snack were destined for each other. Whoaaaaa, that's cheesy. But that was honestly the way I [ir]rationalized my next action. So I went to Mercadona and decided on a simple cheese bocadillo. Cute little carbs, no big deal. Then I walked over to the bakery section, noticed that fresh hot baguettes had just been placed on the shelves, and decided that cute little carbs wouldn't do and picked up the big bunch of monster carbs that smelled bready and delicious. Ate the entire [approximately 14-inch] thing in less than twenty, guzzled down with some orange fizzy soda. In front of a guy in the library who was listening to heavy metal. I felt like a bread monster and his music honestly did not help.

This is the third time I've eaten an entire baguette in one sitting. I guess I really love bread. I should probably stop doing this though because I've never understood taxidermy so well till now.

Feeling stuffed,

Christy

Chubby feet and study snacks

My feet are antsy for adventure.

Never buy meatballs in a can unless you like the taste of dog food. I've been stuffing my face with crackers though, ever since buying them yesterday.

Cheap non-Spanish cuisine

I'm finding that restaurants serving foreign food are cheaper than the ones that serve local dishes. Strange. Anyways, accordingly, I tried some Chinese and Turkish food last week. The Chinese food here is very mediocre (If these restaurants were its only competition, Yuan Ho would win a James Beard). But it was still nice to eat something with the semblance of Asian-ness. I think I'm becoming obsessed with food that I don't have access to. Today I caught myself wishing it was my birthday so someone could give me a wrapped box in which I'd find a nice sizzling and dangerously spicy bowl of soondooboo.

The Turkish food, though, is tasty. We went to a place where they serve döner kebabs, a dish made of lamb meat cooked on a vertical spit and sliced off to order. I ordered a wrap with lamb meat, purple cabbage, lettuce, and maybe cheese. The yoghurty sauce that came with the wrap and order of fries was interesting, tangy, and altogether good.

Current thoughts:

1. This week is grueling. Three papers, one exam, and one presentation. A 5-pager in Spanish isn't exactly giving me warm, fuzzy feelings right now.

2. I might as well admit that I love Wikipedia. Today I was looking up different kinds of cheeses so I could buy some at the market and found out that Salvador Dali's painting, "The Persistence of Memory" was inspired by Camembert cheese. [Trivia that deals with both art and food at the same time is so interesting.]

3. Sometimes when I hear a word that's fun to pronounce, I unconsciously revolve whatever I say around that word. The other day my professor told us what a "friki" was (a mix between a geek and a freak), and I couldn't stop using it the whole day.

Good night!

I am a country mouse

During my latter years of high school I primarily listened to three albums: Death For Cutie's Transatlanticism, Plans, and John Mayer's Continuum. I had a favorite song for each one respectively: "Transatlanticism," "I Will Follow You Into The Dark," and "Stop This Train."

The only song that I actually listen to now more or less regularly is the last one. It's a bit melodramatic and weepingly sentimental, but...there's no but (Why do I feel the need to justify so many things these days? Odd). I in fact love that it's sentimental and welcoming to the nostalgic moods that frequent my thoughts these rainy late winter days. Anyways, on Friday I took a train trip by myself to Alicante. I think of Alicante as the Mediterranean Sea's favored child; its beaches are crisp and jeweled. (Valencia's beaches are pretty, but compared to Alicante's, Valencia is draped with hand-me-downs.) The train ride was peaceful. On the way there, I alternated between taking naps and looking out the window. On the way back, I alternated between reading some Dietrich Bonhoeffer and chitter-chattering with some ladies from Ireland. "What are the best things about Ireland?" I asked. "Mashed potatoes, beer, and conversation," they replied. What a combo.

You know when someone says something along the lines of, "Anybody that knows me well would know that I looooove cheese [for example]." And you actually didn't know that the person loved cheese, so you conclude that you don't know him/her after all. Well, I was gonna pull one of those, but instead I'll just say it: I have no sense of direction. People who have witnessed this utter cerebral weakness of mine are not surprised that I got into college; they instead wonder how I made it past kindergarten when we had to do those little maze puzzles to "help the little birdies find their breakfast worms." You think I'm exaggerating, but trust me, whenever a person finds out the extent of my problem, things get awkward, reaaaaal awkward. Anyways, when my friend Nate gave me directions on how to get to his school, it started with "when you get to the train station, exit using the front door." And I had to chucklingly appreciate this a bit, because "anybody who knows me well would know."

Before taking the tram to the little beach town that lies on the outskirts of Alicante, I ended up having a strolling chat with a dear elderly lady named Maria who was on her way to the market. I don't remember what we talked about, but I somehow ended up at the Mercado Centrale, so I made the most out of this detour and snapped a few photos while breathing in fresh fishy air.

[Bright flowers and white walls--such a pretty combination]

[The school; everything was so quaint and anti-urban]

[The beach--a.k.a. the front yard]

[I don't know what these were, but they were tasty. Sorta like an Italian enchilada. The red one was filled with pork and the white one with spinach.]

[Friends since junior high--who woulda thought we'd reunite in Spain?]

[Nate's lovely friends--we had a mini photoshoot on a field of wildflowers]

Another Sunday school lesson

Kidding : ) Nothing here but dusty, delicious books and Sunday breakfast crepes.
So after saying goodbye to my friends at the train station, I found this street full of little book stands lit with candles, lanterns, and warm lights. They sold all kinds-- coloring books, cook books, sudoku books etc. The old books were the prettiest to look at. The sellers get them from libraries that don't want them anymore. The photo on the bottom pictures a collection of three-hundred year-old books. Holding one in my hands gave me the goosebumps. I asked how much one of these cost, and he answered with a number that made me hold the book for an extra hundred seconds, for I would never hold it again. This sounds a bit dramatic and it very well might be.
My host family loves crepes and they love history. We talked about one while eating the other, and I found out that this combination brings out the flavor of both.