the Current Events of my life

This past weekend was rainy and perfect for relaxing. We had plans to go to Cádiz, the oldest city in Europe which also happens to be a beautiful costal town with a beach, but we have postponed our plans to another, more sunny time. My room mate, I, and some friends met up for some rainy day shopping and then we went to the movies and saw Los Girasoles Ciegos (The Blind Sunflowers), a sad but very beautiful tragedy of a family during the Franco era.

Monday I started my new classes, and so far have enjoyed them. There is a festival of nations in town, and Meara (the room mate I´m always writing about) and I went to walk around and look at the booths which sold goods from each nations that was represented. There were a few booths that had witch statues and giant butterflies and magical things. I debated which nation this could have been, but then decided that it was probably a booth from another realm instead.

Last night after my class, I went to sit on a bench in front of this big beautiful fountain in the city, and I watched the pigeons and the mischevious little old men. Cities are prime people watching places, and I have to say that between Meara and I, we have seen some pretty strange things. Yesterday she saw a couple on a street corner go from 1st to 3rd base, what with the traffic driving by and people everywhere! Once we saw a woman in a big dress shirt with a belt cinched around the watse. She must have taken it from her husbands closet. It actually made for a really cute dress, but then the wind blew and the last few 6 inches of the shirt didn´t button, blowing open to reveal her crotch.

Anyhow, last night was a night of triumphs, and when you are functioning in another lanuage, I feel like even the smallest of accomplishments can be celebrated. Like buying stamps and asking the lady behind the counter a question and actually understanding the answer. This was exciting for me. And then my intercambio (my speaking exchange partner) called and we had an entire conversation in Spanish. And then I came home and chatted with my host mother for a little while, and the conversation was actually a realy, functioning conversation.

During dinner, my room mate was trying to expain a recipe for an Apple Crisp to our host mother, and we had no idea what the world for oat meal was. I found oats in the dictionary and then clapped my hands together and went ¨pbbbttt¨ to signify flat, and she looked at me and said rolled oats! It was amazing, my host mother! I laughed out loud right then and there at the rediculousness of my gestuer, and how she just knew. She has been hosting foreigners for more than 20 years now, so I guess she´s pretty used to lame dinnertable conversations about how the carrots are funny here, or whatever the heck her guests have the vocabulary to say. Or when they like the food, then the tortilla is good, the salad is good, everything is good, good, good! What is good is to learn more descriptors. Thank goodness my room mate is a good spanish speaker. She can carry on a really decent conversations with our host mother, and then I join in and am improving.

Allright, time to go see more of the world and less of this computer screen. Love you all, my friends!

Corrida de Torros

Beautiful architecture inside the Plaza de Torros

Three toreros, or matadors, each parading out with their entourage



Warming up

Waiting for the torro, or bull. Each corrida, or bullfight, has three parts. When the bull first comes into the ring, the matador and his bandarillos gauge the bull with their magenta and gold capes.

Then the bandarillos lead the bull to the picador, who is the one on the horse.

The bull charges the picador, who carries a lance and stabs the bull in the back. This weakens its back and shoulder muscels. The horse wears big protective padding which will not allow the bulls horns to penetrate. The horses also have blinders on and are given tranquilizers, so they are surprisingly calm despite being pushed around by a big bull.

Next, three sets of banderillas are places in the bulls back, further weakening the muscles. This is usually done by the banderillos. I personally think it is one of the most athletic parts of the corrida, because the banderillo runs at the bull, sticks them in and jumps out of the way as the bull is charging him.

Another banderillo at work.

Next comes the part that most people think of when they imagine bull fighting. In this part, the matador uses a muleta, or red cape to draw the bull in a series of passes. The more consecutive passes, the more excited the crowd gets.

This is Pepe. He was the best matador of the evening, and was really able to work the bull.

To kill the bull, the matador stabs the bull in the back with a sword. After he killed the bull, the crowd waved white handkercheif to let the judges know that they thought he had done terrifically.

Pepe is holding the bulls ear, his prize for fighting so well.

About the bull fights

Hello, everyone! It has been wonderful to hear from you, my family and friends, that you have indeed, been keeping up with my blog. I truly wish that each one of you could be here with me to experience what I am experiencing, and since that is really unfeasible, this is the next best thing. Anyhow, I will catch you up the latest happenings here in Sevilla.

Here I am at the Plaza de Toros in Sevilla.

Corridas, or Bullfighting
First and foremost, I would like to tell you all about my first experience with bullfighting. The Corridas, or bullfights, are the iconic cultural embodiment of Spain. And the touristy shops certainly sell their share of stuffed animal bulls and shot glasses with cartoon bulls, and t-shirts and whatnot. But when you really get down to the actual meat of it (had to say it) it’s really intriguing. To be honest, I had never really given the subject much thought until this summer when I read The Sun Also Rises by Ernest Hemmingway. The book describes a bullfight, but to be honest, what I mainly got out of the book was how darn stylish it is to gallivant around Europe with a pickled liver and an intense cigarette habit, rambling from bar to bar ostentatiously spending some unknown inheritance on whisky and wine, expensive hotels and weekend trips to other countries. So Ernest didn’t help me much.

The Controversy
Bullfighting is wee bit of a controversial topic to some people. To kill 6 animals in the span of 2 hours for cultural/entertainment/celebratory purposes might seem a little grotesque. However, I think that it is important to see the big picture. I was lucky enough to attend a seminar given by an incredibly interesting American expatriate with an incredible story and a brain full of bull fighting knowledge. I will try my best to give the condensed version here:

Our Speaker
Our speaker was a high school Spanish teacher from California who would yearly take a group of students to Sevilla for a summer study program. When she about my age, she actually had done a study abroad program herself and had seen the running of the bulls in Pamplona, and really hated it. She was horrified at it and really had no desire to see a bull fight after her first experience. When she was older and became a teacher, she would yearly take students to Spain, and there was a shop she loved to go into. It was the shop of an artist, and she started collecting prints by the artist, and really fell in love with his work. After a few years, she finally got a chance to meet the artist, who turns out to be not only an artist, but also a torero, or bullfighter, from the United States, who lived in Spain. Well, wouldn’t you know that they meet, fall in love, and get married. And, through him, she was able to appreciate bull fighting. Her husband was a great bull fighter, a great man, and a wonderful husband, but has since passed away. And now, as a way to keep his memory alive, she has coauthored a book about her husband and also gives seminars to help people understand the history and culture behind bullfighting. And I was one of the lucky people who had the privilege to hear her insight before going to the corridas my first time.

Why it's not so sad
She explained to us that the bullfight is not actually a fight. The word in Spanish is corrida, which translated, does not mean fight. It is actually more of a drama of life. The bull dies, yes, but then its meat is used to help sustain life, and every part of the bull is, indeed, used after it is killed.

So having said that, there are still more reasons not to feel sad at the bull fight. First of all, the bulls have an incredibly good life. Better than most livestock that we raise to eat in the US. (If you think bull fighting is a grotesque violation of animal rights, you should research where your bacon or frozen chicken breast came from, and then seriously re-consider which battle is worth the fight) Second of all, the bull spends no longer than 15 minutes in the bull ring. And it is not a bad 15 minutes, at that. The bull is doing what it naturally does, which is to charge after moving objects. And it gets a lot of satisfaction out of charging the horses, which you’ll see pictures of below. Thirdly, they don’t feel much pain. They have so much adrenaline going, and also, they have such thick hides that they really can’t feel when they are pierced with the banderillas and such. Fourth, it is a fair fight. The toreros, or bullfighters, are risking their lives, and because of this I feel they are a little more justified in their actions.

Thanks for reading... now on to the pictures

These are all of the matadors, picadors, and peons parading out.

More pictures to come!

¡Mas Picturas!

In Córdoba we visited three places. A palace, a synagogue, and a mosque. These first two pictures are from the palace gardens.

A beautiful courtyard in front of the Mosque in Córdoba.

At an amazing Mosque in Córdoba.

In an ancient Roman Bath. But not bathing.

These were sky lights in the ceiling of the bath house. Our teacher told us that the bath houses were closed later in their history because the Catholic church thought that they were sinful. And so, something was build over the skylights, and now light bulbs light the way.

In the palace patio gardens of Córdoba. Our teacher said that the walkway was raised about 2 feet higher than the trees so that people were able to pick fruit straight from the tree. The Arabs believed that God wanted us to enjoy nature and the beautiful things in the world that He gave us. I like this idea, and so I think I might one day have an orchard with a board walk.

At the palace gardens in Córdoba.

I went with the school on a day trip to Córdoba, and the drive was lovely. I finally got to see the country side. There are olive groves everywhere, and not much else besides scrubby plants and dirt. The olive trees are in these amazing rows and they are all so old and twisted and gnarled and bent over like little old men lined up in rows.

Observation... there are clouds in Europe as well as the US.

More countryside.

Okay, Daddy Bear. This one is for you. Remember how you printed out that big huge list of tapas restuarants in Sevilla? Well, Friday, Sept. 19 was day one of Septembertapafest. Or perhaps falltapafest... why does it only need to last one month? I even tried the noodles like the website recommended, and they were splendidly oiley and garlicy! And then some slow roasted ham, or jamón as they say here.

This is what the restaurant looked like. I don´t know what everyone does here when it rains, butI guess that´s the beauty of living somewhere it only rains about 20 or so inches a year.

The street names are posted on the sides of buildings here. This one `Puerta de la Carne´ literally translated, means `meat door´. Needless to say, I laugh almost every time I pass it.

Touring the Real Alcázar, a palace in Sevilla. A mix of architecture, beginnings with the Moors which as you can see had an Islamic influence, and later other parts were added on to the palace with more Christian gothic design. Like the tiles below (I think).

Probably not the coolest things about this palace, but hey, I love all the tiles!!!

The Gardens in the back of the Real Alcazar, the palace in Sevilla.

There are Orange Trees Planted all over the city, and they are all green right now. I imagine that when they get ripe my nose will go to pieces because it will be so happy. When we first arrived, we foreigners debated about whether they were limes, and about whether we could just pick and eat them. I guess I will just wait and see what everyone else does. (if no one else picks any, I will probably wait till no one is looking)

This is Calle Harinas, where my school is located. It is on the right, a few doors down.

This is a gigantic lady. I am picking her nose.

One of my most favorite things about Spain is the amazing tiles everywhere. They wonderfully detailed and in many rooms tiles cover the entire wall and the floor with outrageously decadent patterns. Sometimes they are more simple. This is a sign that hangs outside of my school, the Center for Cross Cultural Studies.

I forgot to put this picture up with my last post. It was taken in Portugal, where I swam out to this gigantic coquina rock, which is made of up the calcite shells of little sea creatures compacted over time fused into amazing sedimentary rocks. It makes for a mean surface to fall on! Thank goodness I didn´t fall. This is me jumping.

This is a really low quality picture taken from inside my school building on the second floor. In front of you is the banister looking down to the first floor patio, and the door on the very left is where my Clasé de Gramatica is every day.

A couple of Pictures from Galavanting through Portugal and a few other things

A peach pit at the beach. (doesn´t that have a nice ring?) I seem to find lots here. And, by way, the fruit here is fantastic.

The door to my lovely home! (notice the doorknob resides in the midle of the door)

At what used to be considered the end of the world before beleifs of a flat world were debunked. Also, one of the most fantastic things I have ever seen. Imagine tall creme colored, jagged cliffs dropping directly into the cold Atlantic. Now imagine a working lighthouse backdropped by the most exquisite sunset you have ever seen. Then times it all by 125, and you have the beauty of this evening.

Swordfish in Portual... ¡un regalo del mar!

My wonderful room mate and I, enjoying the beautiful Sevilla.

On the stairs down to the beach.

I am about to find out how cold the water is.

If I were a Portuguese pirate, this would be my ship.

Bocadilla y dedos del piel... un dia perfecta a la playa, or en portuguese, praia.

Beach umbrella suburbia.