Ole! A peek in the Plaza de Toros

Shrugging his shoulders forward arrogantly, the matador reached up to smooth his black hair, then trained his stare at the bull. His chin in the air- Jesus Fernandez Fiestas-aka “Yiyo” was by far the crowd favorite at The Plaza de Toros. They cheered Ole! when he flipped the cape, waved white handkerchiefs when he killed a bull with one plunge of the sword.

The torreo began at 5p.m. on a chilly Sunday, the day of Festivad de las Angustias, in honor of Granada’s patron saint, La Virgen de las Angustias. Before I could even make it to the ticket office, an elderly man approached me, saying his $60 ticket was the cheapest I would find. A young woman shoved him aside, waving a ticket at me for $40. I finally gave a harsh, NO! and found a $20 seat.

I sat on a bench, waiting for the start, and quickly made friends with Paloma, a girl from Chile on vacation in Granada. Since we had both come alone, we decided to sit together.

The torreo opened with much fanfare, horns from the band, horses and about eight men, not all matadors. Only the man who is alone in the ring with the bull is a matador-literally translated-a killer.

This spectacle is not for the weak of heart. The beginning is beautiful, with the bull charging about four men, their sweeping capes making shapes like a flamenco dancer’s skirt. Then comes the man on the horse, who deals a swift blow to the bull with a long spear. One time, a particularly hearty torro knocked over the horse-who was blindfolded and wearing a type of armor. Thank God, because the horses really get rammed-the matadors are never touched.

Next is a series of spears, some red and yellow in honor of Spain, other green and white to represent our province of Andalusia. Driven in to the back of the bull by various men, the points slowly kill the animal. Then it’s time for the matador. When he enters the ring, he dramatically throws his hat in the clay. At first his capes are yellow and pink, but when it’s time for death-the sword comes out, as does the red cape.

I’ll leave out the graphic part, but the majority of the American girls in attendance started to cry, and many left the plaza. It definitely was gruesome, and bull after bull was pulled through the dust on its way out.

But to get past the blood, I studied the matador’s movements. Sharp yet graceful, confident yet always within inches from being gored. I saw one bull flip completely head over heels because the matador spun the cape so fast. And I swear they are sewn in to those outfits.

Yiyo had a unique style, shuffling his feet, raising on his toes. He taunted the bull, sidestepping and calling out short, staccato phrases to the torro. When the bull charged, he would stand still, moving only his arms. He loved to raise his hands to the crowd, and do that shoulder shrug that said, “Hmph. I told you I was the best.”

At the end of six matches, the matadors paraded around the plaza, and spectators threw down items they wanted thrown back. One man relinquished a hat, another a shirt, a woman her red high heel. The winner-Yiyo of course-is presented with the bull’s ears-orejas-and enjoys a good 10 minutes of applause and shouts.

I don’t think I will go back to the Plaza. Here I was in a Coloseum shaped structure, feeling like an ancient Roman, watching the gladiators massacre each other. I tried to rationalize that it was an animal, not a human. But still, hearing and seeing everything is quite macabre, and I feel a little guilty for going. But it is part of the culture, and if the little 6-year-old in front of me could handle it, so could I.

Nausea in Nerja

So, the question is….how do you not get sick on a bus when the passenger next to you is throwing up in a grocery bag?
The answer-it’s nearly impossible.
As we drove through winding mountains for two hours, I looked out my window and down, down, down the cliffs that we were speeding along. Left, a quick right, another left….This bus driver was like Ozzy Osborne driving the crazy train. Now I understand why people went to the front to get plastic bags. Really.

I looked at Charlotte, and her green face made me laugh, for about two seconds until the nausea came back. I popped in my iPod and tried to breathe through my mouth, ignoring the sounds and smell…of the man next to me. All this for going to the beach? I live in Jacksonville where it takes less than 10 minutes to have your toes in the sand….

But Nerja is supposed to be beautiful, blackish sand, the Mediterranean, cliffs ending right in the water. So what did it do all day Saturday? Rain!!! How depressing. We were constantly reminded of our plight when we saw sunny, crystal blue postcards for the Costa del Sol. More like the Costa del Soggy. But Charlotte and I walked the town anyway, heading to the Balcon de Europa to gaze out at the endless Mediterranean. We had breakfast in a café, then promptly returned to our hotel room. We were leaving. Not even going to stay the second night. So we booked a bus ride back for 2:30p.m., and mercifully the bus driver took a better, less queasy route and now we’re back in Granada. My host mother says I live on the bus. Maybe I should stay in town for a while, but I would like to go back to Nerja when the sun is actually shining.

First time to the coast....

This is where I will be this weekend....Nerja, which is two hours southwest of Granada:) Charlotte and I are looking forward to getting some sun, eating in touristy restaurants and living the beach life, Spanish style.

School daze

I remember thinking that 2 hours of Spanish was a lot back in high school. At the Sociedad Hispano Mundial, I am enrolled in five hours of Spanish for five days a week. That’s hours of grammar, conjugating verbs, writing, reading, listening and most importantly speaking. And this is not a room full of 28 students, it's just me and Misae from Japan. That means no where to hide if you don't understand something...

I'm very lucky to live so close to school, and it's a nice 10 minute walk. The school take up one floor of a newer building on Riberia del Genil, and there are five classrooms with a common area for students with computers. Spanish children and adults also attend the school for English lessons.

I know how lucky I am to get such individualized attention. By the time Misae and I step out of school, our heads are swimming with new words, Spanish phrases and thoughts of homework. Usually, I have two or three worksheets a night, a written test-like writing a letter home, and three exercises out of the text. But I swear, nothing helps me as much as speaking-that’s what you really use.

We’ve agreed that it is much easier to read and write in Spanish than to speak. You trip over your words, wonder if you said the word for wasp or the word for bishop. "Avispa" is wasp, "obispo" is bishop. Yes they look different, but when saying them aloud, they sound terribly similar.…..or there’s "pecados" for sins and "pescados" for fish….so when the waiter is asking if you would like to see the catch of the day, he’s really not asking you to confess your naughty behavior…..

Speaking with the teachers is a joy. They annunciate, spell words out for you, listen patiently as you try to form an educated sentence about welfare in your country. And they don’t seem to mind explaining how you correctly order an ice cream cone over and over again. The word for cone is "cucaruccho" if you were wondering. But when you hit the streets, or try to recharge your cell phone, or open a bank account, obviously the world is not like your school.

Just like the folks from the northern United States who clip their words short, the Granadinos feel no need to make it to the last letter. Gracias becomes Gracia. Tres mas become tre ma. It’s all about speaking fast and pronunciation….I really had a hard time pronouncing the verb "afeitar," to shave. In German or English you would skip over the e and say the i. For this word you need to pronounce every vowel….just like the word "naipe" for or playing card….

But the teachers know what it’s like to learn another language. Most of them arrive an hour before the school day to take English classes. It’s a treat to teach them phrases, or compare and contrast pronunciation and origins of sayings. We learned that referring to someone as a "blue blood" has the same connotation in the US and Spain, but the origin of the phrase is Spanish, “sangre azul.” The aristocrats of Castille in Northern Spain were careful not to intermarry with the Moors or with other ethnicities and races of darker complexion. The Castellanos’ skin was so fair, it was said you could see their veins, or their blue blood…..

Students are also encouraged to take part in excursions. Tomorrow we are headed to the movie theatre, one weekend we went to Seville, and events revolving around flamenco, theatre and of course…the famous Iberian ham…are in our future. Here's a pic from class last week. Notice all the paper on the desk-lots of work:)

More from Tio Pepe...

Sherry festival in Jerez de la Frontera

Tio Pepe and I are now good friends. The jaunty little hat, the guitar, the drinks. For those who have never sipped a sherry, the Tio Pepe bodega has been producing fine sherry and brandy in Jerez de La Frontera since 1835. And a little sherry bottle, dressed in a hat and guitar can be found all over the city in many different forms.
This past weekend, Misae and I took a five hour bus ride to south-west Spain to visit Jerez, which is near the famed beaches of Cadiz…unfortunately, I saw only vineyards, no surf or sand.

But after we checked in to our hotel and walked closer to the bodega, we could smell the sherry before we saw it. We chose a tour in Spanish, just to see how good we could be. A bit confusing when you don’t understand the sherry making process anyway…but we did well. Our tour guide ushered us through the pyramids of wooden barrels, each marked with a different product. We learned that you will never find a year on a bottle of sherry or brandy….there’s just simply no way to tell how old it is. Workers are constantly mixing and matching, working with natural yeast and the wood of the casks to get just the right flavor and color. And here, only the white Palomino grape is harvested for their sherry.

I think my favorite part was perusing the casks signed by celebrities from the 1930s and on. Pablo Picasso, Margaret Thatcher, Orson Welles, Prince Charles, Steven Spielberg, and countless race car drivers, Spanish politicos and stars of stage and screen.

After our tour, which included an incredibly slow moving choo-choo train through a mini vineyard, we were escorted to the tasting room. No, not like in Willy Wonka. Red and white paper lanterns were strung across the room, and old bullfighting posters decorated the walls. Each table was given a table of fino sherry-the youngest sherry of the group, and some of the solera-a bit older and sweeter. Did anyone else have to read Edgar Allan Poe’s “The Cask of Amontillado” in school? I couldn’t help thinking about it as we were walking through the dank rooms….

Thankfully, they gave us some chips to temper the alcohol, and then it was off to have lunch. I chose gazpacho and croquettes…..We decided to also visit the Harveys Bristol Cream bodega, and I remembered how my dad poured me glass of the sweet sherry before I left for Spain. He had pointed out that it was from Jerez…..and here I was drinking it right near the casks where it was made. Very cool. Misae and I spent the rest of the weekend exploring the tiny town, mostly eating and walking. It is way more touristy than Granada, in fact a waiter spoke to us in English since he was eager to practice.

Was I ready to give my order? he asked….Yes, I said. “Let’s rock and roll,” he said, pen and paper ready.

I was relieved to get back to Granada where the streets are bustling, and can you believe it, things actually feel familiar….

A quickie

That's me in the black and white, of course, on my way back from a trip to the gardens of Carmen de las Materias. I tagged along with my teacher and students from another school.....

Today in class we talked about terrorism, domestic violence, political parties, the Spanish school system and more. I certainly learned a lot of vocabulary.... But I have to admit, I had the most fun imitating New York and Southern dialects. My teacher told me that I had very little American accent. That's good right? Perhaps it is because my father is from the north and my mother from the south? They didn't understand. So I performed a very exaggerated version of Dolly Parton meets Rocky Balboa. Thankfully they laughed.........Tomorrow night, Charlotte from London and I are going to see Mama Mia, in Spanish of course. But all of the songs are in English, so thank goodness it's a musical and I've seen it before:)

Do as the Granadinos do

Yesterday was a big day for Granada. The patron saint of the city, La Virgen de Las Angustias-literally the Virgen of Anguish or Suffering, was offered thousands of flowers by every good Granadino. Beginning at 6p.m. yesterday, the locals waited in lines for hours to present their blossoms at the church. Workers on ladders wove the blooms in to chicken wire, creating a veritable Mardi Gras float of a church. And today my teacher told me that helicopters circled the church and dropped flowers on the crowd. On the last Monday of the month, there is a procession to honor La Virgen, with more flowers, music, lots of traditional dulces and people crowding the street.

A few more photos from Sevilla

A day in Sevilla

After a three hour bus ride, I was officially in my second Spanish city ever. Misae and I sat next to each other, and couldn’t help but be in awe of the millions of olive trees we saw. Literally millions, covering each mountain and hillside in perfect grids. No wonder the olives and olive oil here is so fresh and tasty. I would eat olive oil flavored ice cream if I could!

There were about 50 students on our bus from various schools in Granada. The majority were Americans, but as I hopped off the bus, I followed Misae to a smaller bunch. Our tour guide Juan was so funny and animated, I knew I would have a great day. Until he asked me what part of France I was from. I said, in Spanish of course, that I was from Florida, not France. He gave me a look and promptly asked why I wasn’t with the other Americans. Well of course I asked why all of the Americans needed to be together, and then told him I simply followed my friend. This satisfied him.

First it was off to the Real Alcazar, which was a maze of fountains, gardens with Moorish and Christian architecture. The palace was originally built in the tenth century, and every Arabic ruler and following Christian king added their own flair. Arabic influences with the curved doorways, plaster work and mosaic tile, Christian style with enormous tapestries and gilded rotundas. Amazing. My favorite part was the Arabic baths, which glowed an amber color deep under the palace. Shallow water glimmered in front of us, and I could just imagine the scene hundreds of years ago. Royalty in all of its decadence lived here, and walking the same hallways and plazas that they did. There were also five newlywed couples in gowns and tuxedoes having their photos taken, surrounded by tourists….

The Cathedral of Sevilla was equally jaw dropping, and it took us an hour to see the entire church. In the 1100s, the site was originally a mosque with la Giralda, an immense tower that took us about 35 flights of steps to climb…Not really steps, but ramps. The muezzin would climb the tower on horseback to start the call of prayer every day. The view from the top was amazing, but I nearly fainted on the way up. Over the years, just like much of the history of Andalusia, the Moorish influence was soon overwhelmed by the Christian, and the mosque or mezquita was transformed beginning in 1402. Today it is considered the largest cathedral in Europe, they don’t count St. Peter’s Basilica in Italy because it’s not a cathedral.

Even with hundreds of students and tourists inside, the place was hushed. Reverent. Each capilla, or a small room where the architecture resembles a pope’s hat-or capilla- housed various artifacts that were of course, centuries old. Cushioned chairs, goblets, texts paintings, bones of saints and more. Just looking at the hundreds of carved wooden choir seats gave me chills. The organ was so huge, that I’m sure God really did hear the people when they were chanting. Dripping in gold and iconography, I was really enjoying this tour. And then I saw the tomb of Christopher Columbus. Over the centuries, it has been moved around, but it now rests in Sevilla, in the same church that Columbus’ son is buried. Talk about reverence. I really stood in front of the statues-four Spanish kings of Aragon, Castile, Leon and Navarre- carrying an urn-and stared. It was pretty hard to get me to move out of that spot.

And then there was the test. My tour guy came over, scoffed a bit, and then asked if I even knew the year Columbus discovered the new world. In Spanish, I said Por Supuesto. Mil cuatrocientos noventa y dos. “Of course, 1492.” And what day? he asked. Oct. 12-with his ships the Nina, the Pinta and the Santa Maria. Good enough?

He thought so, and walked away while I thanked my stars that I went to catholic school and dad made me memorize a little ditty about Mr. Columbus. Whew!

Last was the Plaza de Espana, built in the 1920s. Each province is represented by tiled alcoves, and I could resist having my photo taken next to Granada….Interesting note-scenes from both Lawrence of Arabia and Star Wars 11, Attack of the Clones were filmed there….

Three hours bumping back on the bus, and I looked through my photos and fell asleep. As we approached the city lights of Granada at dusk, I felt strange. I felt glad to be….back. It felt familiar as any foreign city can, and Misae shared my sentiments. We had loved Sevilla, but noted that Granada was more friendly, easily walkable and just plain beautiful. Whenever I get a bad dose of homesickness, I flip through my photos and realize just how lucky I am.

The little ambassador

Mr. Eduardo Moreno Ortiz gives me a smile after I gave him a pin from the Rotary Club in Ponte Vedra Beach. This year's theme for Rotary International is "Make Dreams Real." I'm certainly taking that literally.

So, there I was at my first Rotary party, pretty sweaty after hiking 30 minutes to meet Mr. Ortiz, then 15 minutes up the mountain to a private home in the Sierra Nevadas. Needless to say-no heels with my dress. I was VERY nervous to say the least. But once I had given the obligatory two kisses to Mr. Moreno, we talked the whole way to the home. He is a professor of architecture at the University of Granada, which is perfect for me because I always want to know what year everything was built and who built it.

The home was perched on a cliff, with a terrific view of the Alhambra Palace, especially with the moonlight. So after a few introductions and a very fiery conversation about the former dictator Franco, I was left to fend for myself. And that's where the fun started.

When one of the Spanish Rotarians learned I was from Florida, he took me by the elbow and steered me toward two Germans, who spoke English, and wanted to learn more about the university. After only five days here, I am proud to say I did very well. The University of Granada is over 700 years old, and there are about 60,000 students here. Thank goodness we learned all of that in class the morning before the part.

At this special meeting, there were Rotarians from Iceland, Thailand, Scotland, The United States, Austria and a woman from Sweden, who was an exchange student herself to of all places….Jacksonville. The Granada Rotary Club was hosting the travelers on their way back from an EEMA-Europe, Eastern Europe, Mediterranean and Africa-Rotary Conference. There were so many languages floating through the room, but everybody found someone to talk to.

After my marathon translation, where the Spainard had hold of my arm with a vice grip the entire time, I found some new friends, two ladies from Wyoming. When it was time to leave around midnight....mind you this started at 8:30p.m., I gave Mr. Ortiz the pin from Ponte Vedra. He loved it:) I believe I will be speaking at the club's regular meeting in two weeks. Should be interesting.....But I can truly say I now understand the global scope Rotary provides. Where else would I meet Rotarians from Kansas City, Taiwan, Reykjavic........?

Wandering the Mercadona, the supermarket

There are at least 200 people racing about the Mercadona, the supermarket at 10p.m. It seems this is the most popular time to go, and everybody is jostling for their place in line. I had just spent two hours hiking uphill to the Gardens of Carmen de los Martires to look down on the whole city. So I had missed my free dinner at home, and needed something cheap. Sounds easy, right? It’s not.

Nothing is pre-packaged and ready to eat here. But that means everything is fresh and everybody cooks. No ready to eat sandwiches, no pasta salads or other things behind glass. You have your butcher, your baker and your candlestick maker. But I had a good time investigating the differences between Spanish and American groceries.

The carts for instance. To use one where you can push, you have to pay one Euro to unlock the cart from a long line. When you return it, you get your moneda(coin) back. Most people opt to drag around a little basket with tiny wheels and a long plastic handle. Did I say this Mercadona was two floors? You take a flat escalator, no steps, with your little basket and wander around both floors. The women still load up their baskets just like they do in the US. Everything is ham flavored here.

If this was Iron Chef Andalusia-my province-they would make ham flavored ice cream etc…..Needless to say, I left with nothing-the lines were so long I couldn’t bear it. So I went home and dreamed of a huge plate of gnocchi from Maggionos.

The Alhambra, built by Arabic royalty in the 13th century, then revived by the Christians and Catholic Monarchs....

falling in love with flamenco

Her feet moved as fast as a typewriter, with her arms twisting like a matador's, first fast, then slow. She didn’t look at anyone in particular, but her gaze was confident, dramatic, sexual. Slapping her thighs and clapping her hands, the flamenco dancer held everyone’s attention at the Upsetter, a tiny club no larger than a bedroom. The singer and guitar player came on stage first, but when the dancer made her entrance and began to stomp and twirl, I think my eyes became as wide as saucers. You can’t possibly think of anything else when you hear the music. But it’s not just because the singer is shouting and the dancer is clapping. You would be foolish to let your mind wander to other things.

Julie and I had seen posters announcing tonight’s performance, and for 12 E and one free drink, we couldn’t resist even though it was a Sunday night. But I soon learned, just because it’s Sunday, doesn’t mean you start thinking about Monday. That will have to wait until Monday morning. When we left the club around midnight, there were still hundreds of people filling the outdoor cafes and even children were playing with puppies in the plazas, their parents smoking or finishing up their drinks. “Spanish people don’t sleep much,” Julie said.

I walked home with the breeze at my back, and marveled at my glorious weekend. I had my first taste of sangria today, at a small outdoor café at the top of a hill near the Albaicin. With our drinks, the camarero brought olives and some very salty pickles. We had just walked uphill for about 20 minutes, winding through the small, white washed homes I can see in the mountains from my window. So needless to say, we needed to rest. I finally saw the Alhambra palace. I think I will be going there on Tuesday with school…more photos on facebook later....

Mass and the market

Now I know what it’s like to go to mass in a 16th century cathedral. We heard that if you don’t arrive on time for church, they close the doors promptly at 10:31 to keep out the tourists. It’s funny to think that I am slowly becoming less and less of one myself. I asked the guard if my friends and I could sit down, and he warned us that we had to stay for the whole mass. “Claro, son catolicas,” I said, and we were let in. My heels clacked against the marble, and I rose on my tiptoes so as not to disturb the silence.

There were only about 30 people in the whole cathedral, which easily could have sat about 400 or more. Most people go to church in their pueblo, considering La Cathedral too touristy. Oh well. I enjoyed it. The priest was very dramatic, but I enjoyed his sermon about community, marriage and I think not talking behind people’s backs. I was glad to remember how to bless myself in Spanish thanks to St. Peters. En el nombre de padre, del higo y el spiritu santo, amen. Bueno.

The girls and I, Misae, Julie and Sarah, decided to go to a market on the far end of town, which meant the bus.....where we snapped some photos and Misae threw up the peace sign. Oh my god, does the bus get crowded and people are all up in your face. But everyone offers their seats to the elderly, which is wonderful.

We make it to the market, which was basically a huge flea market with baby chicks, vegetables, sweets and lots and lots of cheap clothes and sunglasses. The guy in the above photo was very popular with the ladies....There were hundreds of people milling about like ants, so we left, turning a corner to find a closer bus stop. And there goes the, bus beginning to pull away. Well, it’s Sunday, and there aren’t many buses running…so we run. I’m in heels for church and I almost broke an ankle running on the uneven streets. But there was no way I was going to be left behind so I hoofed it.

After siesta, Julie, Sarah and I are headed to the Albaicin, a particulary picturesque quarter of Granada. Many of the buildings date from the 11th century-wow- and were part of the old Islamic fortresses. I'm bringing my camera:)

Gypsys, tramps and thieves. Not really, but there were two gypsys.

Sept 5. Mood-Very happy, but here's a funny story, I explain these photos toward the end of the blog....

So I met my first gypsy today. Or rather, she met me. My friend Misae from Japan and I went to get an upclose look at La Catedral, and as we entered the gates, a shriveled older woman grabbed my elbow, whirled me around and said in Spanish. Take this, take this! She was handing out sprigs of rosemary, and I immediatly said no thank you. But she grabbed my shoulders, so i stepped back. Misae is looking at the church schedule, and back at me over her shoulder. I was being forceful, but polite, when she grabbed my hand and said in English..."You have long life. Your life will change next year. You and your love will return to Granada next year." That's got to be what she says to everybody....I yanked my hand away, so no thank you, and then she asked for money. As dad has predicted, another woman was circling my bag, which I had transferred to my front. I "escaped" and I'm pretty sure they shouted a bunch of expletives at me:)

But....The most exciting news of the day, I have the Internet in my apartment. I feel much more connected, and happier. So I didn't sleep very well last night, probably because I don't have an alarm, and I was worried that I didn't set my cell phone correctly. I tried to set it to Spanish time, but it screwed up the hours and minutes, and get this....there is no clock in this house! Also, my laptop doesn't have the right time. I was screwed. So I guessed, and made sure to wake up in enough time to do my homework, shower and walk the 15 minutes to school. Sucess, but it proved a fitfull sleep. Classes went by so fast today-I swear, the next time I looked up it was 2p.m., and Pilar was yelling at me and Misae to come with her to open my bank account. I knew this would be a treat. Pilar is llitaerally making us run to the bank, because en realidad, es 1:50, and the bank will close in 10 minutes for the entire day.....

We get there with no line, but by the time we are finished, there was a line about 10 people deep behind us. The customers were agitated and not afraid to show it, tapping their feet, saying things under their breath, looking at their watch. Pilar left me to fend for myself while she helped Misae. This was going to be fun. But dear Ignacio was very kind, and I spoke Spanish the entire time. I'm glad I stuck my passport in my bag this morning because I needed it, and like any good Girl Scout, I memorized my new address. I still have to go to the police station and get a card of residency to complete the process. But I felt so good when I left there, since Pilar complimented me on my success. I will still miffed from all the looks I was getting, and how another man behind the desk called us "stupid exchange students." Oh well.

Since class was over, Misae and I walked back to our apartments, talking about the weekend. We decided to meet back at her apartment after la siesta. This time, I took a SIESTA. But remember, I still don't have a clock, and guestimated the time, hoping I would not sleep for hours. I woke up at what I thought was 5:30, and left the apartment. Seeing an older woman with a watch, I asked her for the time. I swear she said 6:30 and I freaked out, worrying that Misae had been waiting for 30 minutes. I pretty much ran past the bonsai store, the pharmacy, the laundromat and everybody on the street only to find no Misae. I rang her apartment number, went upstairs only for her to tell me I was right on time. Whew!! All of the teachers tell me that I go by the rules too much. I'm too much on time, or worry about the right numbers for my bank account. Pilar said to me in broken English-"You like too much the law."

So Misae and I walked around a new part of Granada, the Plaza Bib-Rambla. There were Italian restaurants, street performers and some of the tiniest, most charming streets I have ever seen. We walked down many, and marveled at all of the fans, Granada souveniers and traditional flamenco garb. Todos para las touristas.

And now I was on a mission for a phone. So guess what? T-Mobile does NOT work over here. All this frustration for nothing....I went to a store called Orange, which is one of the biggest cell providers here. But most people, even if they live here pay as they go for minutes. Everybody texts rather than makes phone calls. I went up the counter, told the woman, Necesito una carjeta prepagado por mi mobile, and she began going on and on in Spanish until I asked tentativly, so you speak English. Turns out she was from Australia and has lived here for 8 years! Perfect. I bought a small LG phone, Misae did too, and we are so happy with our Spanish number. It is free for me to recieve texts, but the cheapest plan for that means 70 cents in Euros to send one. So I won't be sending any...but it is good for emergencies and to call my fellow students in Spain. And I have a special plan just for students where the calls are cheaper at night......

I stopped in my first grocery store o mercado for some razors and a bottled water. Wow. The woman who checked me out was on the phone, laughing and flirting with you knows who, and never acknowledged me. I had to laugh. And the woman in front of me was lamenting about some crazy rash under her arm...ick....and she showed us all. Hmmm. I stifled a giggle and walked on home for la cena, or dinner.

Tonight was fun because Jeff, Ben and I sat in the kitchen while Sara made hamburgers and a green soup made with vegetables I have never heard of. But it was delicious-I know there were potatoes in there somewhere and some scallions... the photo I have posted is a typical Spanish lunch, eaten always around 2:30. Today was potatoes, green beans and carrots with a cold tomatoe sauce-which I love, and croquettas de pollo. And the soup I described earlier. Sara always puts a huge piece of bread with the meal, but I usually put it back in the bag. It is so much, and very filling. And then they take a nap afterward!! But most Spainards don't eat much for the rest of the day, perhaps only tapas, vino o ice cream.

We all spoke our best Spanish, and had a few laughs...I've also attached a photo from dinner. Ben is in the green, Jeff is drinking, and of course, that's Sara, my host mother. It's about 11p.m., and everbody is going out-but again, I can't muster it. I'd rather play on the Internet and feel connected again. I have plenty of time to enjoy the city.

Tidbits and more from my first two days

Don't be overwhelmed. I just got Internet access in my apartment, so I have a lot to post. I wrote as I went, but here it all is. Enjoy. And I can't figure out how to put the photos within the text, but as you read, you will see what photos goes with each post.

Sept. 3- mood-very annoyed.

My phone doesn’t work, the Wi-fi in the Frankfurt airport doesn’t work. My credit cards nor pre-paid calling cards don’t work. I can’t call home, or text or e-mail to let my family know that I’ve arrived safely. Soooo frustrating! And I still have two and a half hours until my next flight.

But let me tell you about my 9-hour flight-mate. Laura, the girl in the photo, was a 24-year-old girl from Germany who sat next to me and told me about her visit to Melbourne, Florida. She was a nanny for a Germany family who now lives in the Sunshine State, and I thought it was pretty cool when she said she had to visit Ron Jon’s Surf Shop before coming home.
We chatted a bit before lift off, but once we were in the air, we both popped in a movie. I chose Leatherheads with George Clooney, she went for Made of Honor with Patrick Dempsey, aka McDreamy.
And after that it was Kung Fu Panda, yes I watched a cartoon because I had already seen Drillbit Taylor and What Stays in Vegas. There were TV channels, music channels with live concerts and my personal favorite-the screen that shows the little airplane chugging along the map.

I tried to sleep, really I did, but it just didn’t happen. I thought I was being smart to choose the aisle seat so I could get up and walk around. Wrong! Laura had the window and propped up her pillow for a nice snooze. I knew I fell asleep, but only for about 5 songs on the iPod shuffle-which is about 20 minutes……
The meals were great!! Chicken with mushrooms and rice around 10p.m., lots of sodas, tomatoe juice etc…..and their tiramisu was soo good! And we had breakfast, which I wasn’t hungry for but ate anyway-an omelete with peppers and potatoes. It’s crazy what you can microwave.

Also, I met a former Rotary scholar named Shelby from Maine who was on her way to Sevilla. She had studied in Mexico for a year thanks to Rotary, and was now looking forward to the Spanish experience….small world.


Sept 3,4, around midnight Granada time. Mood-somewhere between cloud nine and eleven.

This is all you need to know. The view from my apartment is the Sierra Nevadas in the distance. At night, the hills are aglow with orange, red and yellow lights. I’ve always said I wanted to live in a city, so here we go. Right now I hear a baby crying, a siren wailing and revelers on the street. And a woman threw what I can only hope is bath water out the window, right over mine.....

But how did I get here? The flight from Barcelona to Granada had the most turbulence. Let’s also point out that I have only slept for about 2 hours total this whole traveling time. So I was grumpy to say the least. I did lie down on the airport benches in Barcelona, my luggage straps entangled around my body so nobody could snatch my “malletas” or suitcases. The funny part is, this guy sat right by my head, even though there were PLENTY of seats around. Also, I was NOT pleased to hear how a SPANAIR crash killed more than 12 people on a flight to Madrid. Not cool. And now I’m scared for the way back, of course.

Let me take a moment to tell you…the mountain breeze coming from my third story window is like heaven. I would say it’s about 65, and there is NO air conditioning here.

That’s going to be hard for a Florida girl to get used to for the day. But everybody here has curly hair so that’s a plus, everybody has the frizzies. In fact, the woman who picked me up said she couldn’t find me because I looked Spanish. I actually walked up to her since I saw her Sociedad Hispano Mundial folder. Se llama Pilar, and she was kind enough to collect me from the Granada airport-it’s just one little terminal. And you exit the plane just like I’ve seen in so many James Bond movies, down the stairs and right on the pavement. Though I arrived at 10p.m., my first view of Granada was breathtaking. I didn’t cry-surprisingly-but took a moment to breath. The air smells different here-cleaner, fresher. Pilar and I chatted-with my best Spanish after two hours of sleep-while listening to the radio-that meant Michael Jackson, Gloria Estefan and Celine Dion-all the comforts of home. And one of my first sentences was "Lo siento que mi maleta esta tan pesado"-I’m sorry that my suitcase is so heavy. But everyone has said that I packed light for six months!!

As Pilar and I drove from the airport, we turned down Camino de Ronda, where my host mother Sara lives with her son Eduardo. When Pilar pointed to the third floor of the apartment, I got so excited. Everything is marble here, and I already have my own set of keys. Sara immediately greeted me outside, along with Jeff, an 18-year-old student from Massachusetts who lives down the hall with another student Ben, 21 from Virginia. Sara sat me down in the kitchen where a bocadillo was waiting, a sandwich of ham, lettuce and mayonnaise. I ate, we talked, then I went to bed without so much as touching my suitcase.

Sept. 4 mood-happy and sweaty.
Remember how I said I met Ben and Jeff? They don’t live down the hall, they live with me! When I asked Jeff where he lived and he said around the corner, I didn’t know he meant next to my room. Jeff had left after I met him, and returned after I was asleep...so I had no idea until Ben walked in my room today to shake hands. So that’s fun-three Americans sharing one Spanish dictionary. And another American girl is coming this Sunday.

More about Granada…..
Those who know me, know I got lost. That all ended today. I successfully got to my school, spent five hours in class and made it all the way home! I woke up at 9a.m., and took about 10 minutes getting ready. Nobody wears makeup here. What you see is what you get, but since they are all beautiful, they don’t have to worry. When I arrived to the school, I climbed three flights of marble steps to find AIR CONDITIONING!! Woohoo! I met Alena, a woman I had been corresponding with via e-mail and other students from Holland, Chad, Japan and the states. So cool. I took a test to gage my level of Spanish. Wow. Looking at the paper transferred me right back to high school. As they graded my papers, Pilar, the woman who picked me up at the airport, led me to the computer and told me to send an e-mail to my parents….this was after I successfully told everyone how I had blown all of the lights out in my apartments with my freakin’ $10 Wal mart converter!!! When I woke up this morning, I was so pleased with myself when my cell phone began charging with the converter. Then it was time to blow dry my hair, and POOF!! Black smoke, a black burn on my hand and ALL of the lights out in the house. Talk about embarrassing. Sara was so understanding and told me not to worry-but that’s really all I could think about during class. Kind of like my first day at the Recorder when I fizzled my computer with a glass of water-I’m noticing a trend.

Back at school, I sent off a quick e-mail, one to my parents, one to Ben and I know they were barely legible. Thus began hours of school. I am loving it! Education really is power, and though some of it came rolling back, the hardest part really is speaking. But that’s what’s great about this school. They teach grammer and conversation the old fashioned way, but then rip a page from a Spanish magazine to ask you to describe the Prince and Princess of Spain.

My favorite part of class had to be the part about immigration. We read a newspaper article, and then my instructor Cristina, asked us each individually to discuss immigration in our country. Of course all eyes were on me being from the US. And I went first. I said that there are many Mexicans and Cubans in Florida today, but that the US is a country of immigrants. We all came from somewhere, and of course I told of my Italian heritage. The teacher asked me if the Mexicans were beggers, and I said no. We talked about if and why immigrants learn the language of their host country, the social and economic effects and more. I loved it. This is how you learn Spanish. And it was interesting to hear how the girl from Holland said the immigrants there are from Morocco, Turkey, Africa etc, and many of them pick the asparagus-I believe this came after I said some immigrants in Florida pick oranges and fern…..and they thought I meant marijuana due to my handgesture while trying to explain the leafy, green stuff in floral arrangements……

A few more lessons about the past tense and more conversation….and the instructor said ok, let’s eat…but said be back in 15 minutes. Huh?? I said, ok I’m going home, and she said you don’t have time. Well ,where do I go? She invited me to tag along with two other teachers to a café right next door. I don’t think this is the norm, and she must have felt sorry for my hairdryer story. I sit down and realize…I DON’T HAVE ANY EUROS. I couldn’t find anywhere in the airport to change money, and when you arrive in Granada at 10:30p.m., you’re not going to find it either. I sat there, asked for a glass of water-agua de grifo, meaning tap water, because honestly, I wasn’t hungry. The three teachers asked me different questions, how old are you, do you have a boyfriend etc…not realizing that this was my first day in Granada. I answered the above questions, told them it was my very first day and let out two tears. Just two. I’m not sure where it came from, but I can tell you I memorized each detail in that café trying to look around. It was just being in a foreign country, a bit helpless but not really, and sitting with three strangers. They were not making me feel like a stranger, but I felt like one. So after the two tears, I started asking about what they were eating-tostadas, which here means good, hearty bread with a smattering of tomato sauce. Everybody drinks Coke….

Back to class, and in conversation, I said tarea, the word I had learned for homework. The instructor rolled her eyes and asked where I had learned Spanish. I said Florida, and then asked if perhaps it was a Mexican word for homework and she said yes in a not so nice way. And it didn’t help that I called the princess of Spain "flaca". Yes, flaca is a word for skinny, but delgada is a much nicer word meaning slender. I wasn’t winning any points here. Toward the end of class, she asked me about my job, and I told her I was a writer. That made her happy, and thank God I had a magazine in my bag, just for this occasion. Mainly so when I feel really stupid, I can pull out a shiny magazine and they can flip through it to see I am semi-proficient in at least one language. She enjoyed it, and I felt much better. She also asked if I would write stories about Granada for the people back home. Of course, I said. Por supuesto.

So thank God mom made me put peanuts in my purse back in DeLand because I ate those until I came home at 3p.m. to find a heaping bowl of pasta and pulled pork waiting for me…….That was after doing battle for 15 minutes with the damn key to the apartment. I met Eduardo, my brother, for the first time, who was very polite and handsome. He stuck my bowl of pasta in the microwave, and in conversation, he told me it was his birthday tomorrow. I asked if he knew who the NY Yankees were. He said no, puzzled. I told him I had a present from the states, and ran to my room, rummaging for my NY Yankee beanie. I came back out and before I could say anything, he saw the symbol and say, Ah si! Nueva York! Isn’t that what I said?:) He took it, blushed and said he loved it. Perfect.

Sept 4 in the evening. Mood-fatigued and a sore throat
It’s officially the end to my first day in Granada. I didn’t take a siesta, which was a mistake. It’s 10:30 p.m. here, and I am dragging, while all the other students are on their way to a discotheque. I wouldn’t be able to if I wanted. So instead of sleeping during siesta, I met a few people from school-from Holland, Belgium, Wales, Germany and Louisina to go to an Arabic tea room, or teteria. To us, it would have been seen as a hookah bar. The tea was served in very small glasses and was sugary sweet. Prepared with hints of mint, strawberries, whatever you like. Since it was still BLAZING hot, I opted against hot tea and went for Zumo de naranja y limon, which you can guess is a juice drink. Muy refrescato. It was tangy, and I suspect made with Fanta….a lot is here. My favorite evening drink is called tinto de verano (1.80 E), basically “red wine of the summer.” Served with lots of ice in a tall, skinny glass, it’s made with red wine and Fanta.

Remember that the only part of Granada I have seen is from my window and on my way to school. Beautiful yes, but it wasn’t the complete picture. On the way to the tetaria, my new friends and I walked up to Calle Reyes Catolicos, home of the most beautiful cathedral I’ve ever seen. Locals simply call it, La Catedral. Reyes Catolicos is one of the most famous streets in Granada because of the 15th and 16th century architecture paired with some modern day shopping that I could never afford. As we walked through the Moorish part of town, the streets grew smaller, more rocky and curved uphill. This is how I envisioned Europe. Dogs were prancing around everywhere, and women sat in chairs outside the mercados with their fan. Every woman has a fan (abanico) here, and they sell them by the bin full in the stores. I might have to purchase one, seeing as how my co-workers at the Ponte Vedra Recorder always made fun of me for using mine. I was just practicing for Spain. It is hot here, but less humid than Florida. However, I didn’t spend 6 hours walking around in the Florida sun…

Ah! On the way, I stop to change my $50 American cash for some Euros. Yeah….that equaled about $38. I was not happy. At the tea room I had what I think was a hotflash of panic when I realized I might be poor here. And that I would be here for 6 months. And that I was so incredibly hot. So I began making conversation with the teacher that had joined us. Turns out she studied for a year in Washington D.C. I’ve found her the most enjoyable person to talk to in Spanish. Cool thing about dinig in Spain, they tell you immediately how much each person owes separately. There are rarely written checks. We pay and the best part of my day begins. Together with Sara from Louisiana and Julie from Belgium, I explore the city. One huge, smooth, stone street lined with Cyprus trees led us to many more stores. But here it was 8p.m. and there were masses of people. I had not seen this many people all day. I’m talking hundreds. Older men sitting eating ice cream. Teenagers texting and chatting. So we decided to get some gelato. I think we passed 20 gelatarias in 20 minutes. I chose the strachiatella flavor, basically vanilla with dark chocolate chunks. Other flavors included Dulce de Leche, Nutella, and all the usual suspects.

And then I see it and have to squelch a yelp.

A cathedral, the one in the photo, had swung open its doors due to the heat, and passerby crowded in the doorway to listen. I walked in and my jaw dropped. My photo does not do the El Catedral de Nuestra Senora de las Angustias justice. Women were waving their abicones all over and nodding as a priest read. Beautiful. This Sunday, the two girls and I will try to go to mass in La Catedral.

Now it was time to get Erica a charger. We headed to El Corte Ingles, a three story department store with anything and everything you could ever want. Well….I only had a few Euros, so I asked, in Spanish, if I could use my card. Of course they said yes. I bought a real converter, one Sara had recommended, and it’s happily charging my iPod as we speak. I am way too scared to use a hairdryer, and I might not ever again.

Then it was time to fix my phone. First of all, I’m having a time unlocking it, and second of all, try to explain a pre-paid Sim card to a sweaty lady behind a desk. No luck. I might have to buy a phone with a prepaid plan, which for one hour and the phone is only about 30 American dollars. When the card is up, you just buy another card for 5E……After all this walking, we decide we need to rest our feet, and in true Spanish style-we do tapas. We are so proud of ourselves when we order our drinks, but I’m excited to see the free tapas coming our way. Big, crispy potatoe chips, and hunks of bread with fresh tuna and a light tomatoe sauce. Excellent. We sat on the street, laughed and spoke in English for about an hour and a half. It was still a cultural experience, because Sara and I learned all about Belgium, and we told her about America. I think my highlight was explaining Mardi Gras, and Julie politely calling me dirty because I change my clothes everyday.

We said our goodbyes the Spanish way, one kiss for each cheek and parted. Now I’m sad because both girls will be leaving next week. People usually only stay here for a few weeks or a few months, so they look at me like I’m crazy for staying for six months. But a Japanese girl named Misae is also a Rotary scholar and will be staying for 6 months. It’s very cool that our common language is Spanish.

About to be hit the friendly skies with Lufthansa...

Sept. 2 6:15p.m.Mood-a little lightheaded

“Where are you going?” the woman behind the Lufthansa desk asked me. Her quizzical expression immediately made me nervous, and I said, “Granada.”

“I’m sorry, we haven’t had anyone fly there from here in six years, so I forgot the codes,” she apologized.
Of course I replied, “I sure hope they have an airport there still.”

This was after I had to pay $50 for my big, fat, overweight suitcase. How else do you pack for six months? I will confess I packed three pairs of heels-one patent leather, one metallic silver and one polka dot…..
Once I was rid of that mountain of a suitcase, my parents and I headed to gate 80. We said our goodbyes, and I funneled in to a bottleneck of passengers. I learned I fit in to the “Casual Traveler” category. Expert travelers supposedly fly twice a month or more-and the photo showed a very svelte women carrying only her purse. Perhaps by the end of all this I will look like her, and learn to pack light.

Doubtful on both counts.

I take off my shoes-of course I wore heels despite my father’s vote for sneakers-and shoved everything in the grey bins.
My messenger bag had to be scanned twice and I held up the line on my way to gate 80.
I board a shuttle where a very kind Southern gentleman offers me the pole to hang on to, seeing as how the strap from the ceiling was a bit too high.

“They sure don’t make these things for shorties, do they?” he said.
No, they don’t. And they don’t make air conditioners for these mono-rails either. Whew!

That leaves me here, sitting, waiting for an hour and a half. My entertainment consists of watching the flight attendants walk by. It must be a requirement to be blonde and beautiful to be a Virgin Atlantic stewardess. I just watched five stalk the runway as they trailed their carry on. Of course I wanted a photo, so I turned the flash off and took the sneaky route. Snap.

There are only 14 people sitting around me, the most interesting character being a tall, tan German woman about 60 years old. She is dressed all in white-white pants, jacket, pearls, shoes and purse. But there’s the metallic gold blouse, and she’s just stuffed the jaket in a plastic bag-probably to keep it clean. Ah! My plane just pulled in!! I think it’s time to get a coffee and listen to some music.