Photos from Andalucía

As you can see to the right, new photos are up from the recent trip to Córdoba and Sevilla, and shortly, I'll be putting up the pathetically small amount of Rioja photos I have.

New Photos!

New photos are up from my trip to Cuenca on Friday. Also, a few photos from right here in Alcalá, very close to where I live. Check them out.

A Gathering of Immigrants on the City Bus Causes Kyle to Have a Transcendental Experience

Today was a special day. If there are only three experiences I remember from my whole tenure here in Spain, my bus ride this morning on my way to school will be one of them. The first would be that day in Llanes, way back on September 27. The second would be my over night train ride from Alcalá to Barcelona, on the evening of January 1. Today, February 25, 2009 is number three. Let me explain.

Transcendental. It was an every day occurrence, I'm sure. The first time I've witnessed it though. Normally when I'm on the bus on my way to school I love looking out the window at everyone out on the streets going about their lives, shopping, working, strolling, whatever. It's very comforting in the morning, especially when I loathe the idea of going to school. Makes me happy.

When I got on the bus this morning most of the front seats were full, or had at least one person in the seat, and my lumbering backpack and satchel need a seat for themselves. In the back there was a seat facing backwards, I took it. Across from me in the large, four-seat area was a slightly big Latin American man. Behind him was a black man. Nothing special. Spain is full of immigrants and diverse cultures. One of the next stops a Spanish woman got on, probably in her 40s. She sat across from the Latin American man, in the four-seater. On one of the next stops a family of Asian background came in. They headed back to us, where there was room. The man sat next to me, and the woman propped up their baby in the seat next to the Latin American man. The baby was having some troubles sitting down properly. The Latin American offered to move across the way, right next to the Spanish woman, so the mother could sit next to her baby. My heart warmed up (and the baby was so cute too). So there was the mother, the baby, the Latin American, and the Spanish woman all sitting in the four-seater (two seats face forward and two seats face backwards⎯ ideal when you have a group and want to talk).

The Spanish woman abruptly gets up and moves to the front of the bus, where she takes a now vacant seat. The father who was sitting next to me moves next to the Latin American, to be closer to the family. The woman and the baby are eating some snacks. I smile. More people get on the bus. An American girl sits down next to the black guy. The front of the bus is full of Spaniards. We, the “foreigners,” all fill up the back.

I laugh but am also saddened by the Spanish woman. It is true, Spain is still a very racist, prejudiced country. My Spanish friends call the convenience stores (properly, in Spanish, alimentación) chinacos, since usually they are owned by Asians. I prefer the shorter, non-racist/generalizing term, ali. Many times I’d be walking with Monica and Kristine, both of Korean descent (Kristine actually having been born in Korea), and we received shouts of “ni hao.” Even better, as we ignored them and continued walking, “konnichiwa.”

I was in Carrefour once, a French-owned supermarket here, waiting in line behind two Romanians. The cashier had told them the total and they were gathering coinage to pay for it, but there was a misunderstanding, as the Romanians were speaking Romanian and not Spanish. They figured it out, rather easily, and the two men were off. Once they were out of earshot and the cashier was scanning my food, she was talking to the Spanish woman behind me. She complained, protesting that they should speak Spanish if they’re in Spain, that she can’t/won’t understand them otherwise. Then she proceeded to call them gilipollas (more or less, jerk/jack-ass). Everyone has heard this same tired rhetoric before in the States. Close minded people continually say “They’re in our country, they should learn our language” (for a perfect take on this, I recommend the wonderful season 7 Simpsons’ episode, Much Apu About Nothing⎯”You know what really aggrivases me? Is ‘dem immigints. They want all the benefits of livin’ in Springfield, but they ain’t even bothered to learn themselves the language.” “Yeah, those are exactly my sentimonies!”).

Alas, ignorance is every (at least from my experience, it’s definitely in both Spain and the States), and it saddens me to see such discrimination all around me. The more I stay here, I keep saying, the more liberal I get. By the time I return I’m sure I’ll be so far left I’ll be giving Gandhi a run for his money. But I don’t like to think of it in such crude political terms. I feel the more I’m here, the more I’m becoming a person, the most I’m creating my essence, as Jean-Paul Sartre would say. I’m shedding any prejudices or perceived notions I may have had. I’m being to understand the world just a little bit more.

In Casablanca (absolutely one of my favorite films of all time⎯if you haven’t ever seen it, go watch it now), Rick, Captain Renault, and Major Strasser are sitting at a table in Rick’s Café. Major Strasser is asking Rick about his history, and asks him what his nationality is. Rick replies “I’m a drunkard.” To which Captain Renault quips, “That makes Rick a citizen of the world.” Rick answers Major Stasser’s original question, “I was born in New York City if that will help you any.”

I was born in Fond du Lac, Wisconsin if that will help you any.

Like Rick, I’m a citizen of the world. I’m reminded of John Lennon’s ever-so-famous song Imagine.

Imagine there's no countries
It isn't hard to do
Nothing to kill or die for
And no religion too
Imagine all the people
Living life in peace...

I’m sick of nationalism impeding progress. We’ll never evolve as a species if we don’t realize that we’re all humans. People are so stuck up on being American or Spanish or French or whatever, to quote the greatest-comedian-to-ever-live Bill Hicks “It’s a round world last time I checked.” There’s nothing wrong being proud of where you’re from⎯don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love Wisconsin⎯but the way people close themselves off from the rest of humanity because of their tiny minds, I just can’t stand it. It sickens me.

I’m disappointed in myself that it took me this long to actually come to this conclusion. Sure, I knew it in the back of my head all this time, and I’ve always believed in equality, but I suppose Spain has been my catalyst in forming my beliefs. It’s just a little depressing that not everyone gets these opportunities to see the world and have a greater understanding of what it means to be a part of the world community, what it means to be a human being, and not just an American, not just a Spaniard. I look forward, as Lennon did, to the day where there are no more countries, when we’re all one.


Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely on these accounts. Broad, wholesome, charitable views of men and things cannot be acquired by vegetating in one little corner of the earth all one's lifetime.

⎯Mark Twain, Innocents Abroad

Ahem....

So clearly I went to Portugal like two months ago and if this is the only way you've been in contact with me (hopefully not, Dios no lo quiera), then I probably seemed dead. For that, I'm sorry (if you thought I was dead). I'm not. Yay! I've just been busy and lazy. Well, mostly lazy. It's not like I haven't been writing though since I still write in my journal everyday (and I try drawing every once in a while too!). 

What have I done since my last entry? Let's make a list:

• Lisbon, Portugal
• "Graduated" from my first semester of school in Alcalá
• Watched all but three of my friends from autumn return to the United States (tear)
• Mother came to visit, we headed to Bilbao for a weekend, then spent the rest of the time in Madrid
• Father and cousin came, we went to Barcelona, Zaragoza, Vitoria-Gasteiz, and Madrid
• I moved into the residencias (dorms, more or less), the new group of students arrived, and we started school
• Since then I've been doing work and living the Spanish life
• Constantly feel ashamed I haven't been keeping this updated

So that's that. I will try to get an update of some decent length up later this week. I won't promise 'cuz I don't entirely trust myself. Until then, enjoy these awesome new photos I just put on Flickr from my travels. There's the Portugal ones, plus about 300 ones from winter break. 

Enjoy.

Lisboa

Goin' to Portugal folks, see ya in three days.

Ávila es aviliciosa

This past Friday I went to Ávila (in Castilla León) with my literature class as a bit of a day field trip. I never enjoy waking up early, of course, and I had to be up at 7:45 a.m. for this trip, so clearly I wasn't too excited about going there. And yet, I was very surprised with the trip, having enjoyed the city.

Ávila is the birthplace and major residence of Santa Teresa de Jesús (Saint Theresa), who did a whole bunch of crazy stuff in her life like being penetrated by a flaming arrow held by some type of tiny angel representing God. There's a statue in Rome by Bernini commemorating this called "The Ecstasy of Saint Theresa" or better, in Spanish "El Éxtasis de Santa Teresa." I've only seen it in a documentary but it rivals Michelangelo's David. It's that awesome. She was a member of the Renaissance's mystic movement, along with San Juan de la Cruz. Basically the mystics believed it was possible to become one with God before you died. They wrote poems that seem like raunchy love stories and they experienced things that you wouldn't expect to hear about God. The experience of being one with God in this world was so great and indescribable though that they had to make their literature seem sexual in order that the general public would understand what exactly it was they were going through.

Anyways. Ávila. We got there early morning with the sun straight in our eyes as we overlooked the city from some stone cross on the outskirts. This is one of the few cities that was/still is surrounded by defensive walls. They are the coolest parts of the city. That a this one plaza, but I'll get to that later. 

Then we headed to some church, another one, I know. Don't try to ask me to recall the name or whether it was really a church, cathedral or basilica. I have no clue. There were crosses and some Jesus statues. And benches and candles and all that fun stuff you'll find in any of the three. It was still pretty cool though, but we were only there for a few brief moments. We headed to the catacombs below the church where there is now a museum to Santa Teresa and all that goodness. We read the part of her autobiography where she talks about being impaled by the glory of God in the catacombs and a part of her famous poem "Vivo sin vivir en mí" (I live without living in myself) where she says she's living but not really because she'd rather be with God. Another line "muero porque no muero" I'm dying because I'm not dying. Powerful stuff and one of my favorite poems of the era. 

Of all the places to possibly hold a religious relic, one of Santa Teresa's fingers is just through a giftshop in Ávila. It's very decrepit and old and green and brown and hairy (mold?) and has a ring attached. The story goes that Franco had one of her hands and would touch it before he signed any laws or did anything important. That hand is now in Sevilla, I believe. The other, in Rome. No one knows which hand the finger in Ávila belongs to, and I'm not quite sure why not, you'd think whoever has the hand would just check and tell us. My theory is that it's from the right hand because of the ring. In Rome and Spain the marriage ring goes on the right hand -- and although she was a nun and couldn't get married she was a rebel, so it's possible, no?

The walls, as I have said earlier, are probably the coolest part of the city because you can go up and run around on them and survey the area below you. How the city has expanded beyond the walls and all the farms surrounding it. You can peer into the city and see everyone heading about getting ready to eat lunch (if you're up there at about lunch time, that is). Needless to say there will be some cool photos from this section coming up soon. I spotted while up there this plaza, empty with a line of benches like a church on one side, interspersed with barren trees. For no reason whatsoever it made me think of Russia (I have a weird association system in my brain). I was in love and headed down to find lunch around there. Yet, the place was full of banks, yema stores (candy shops, basically) and a Burger King. No restaurants with menú del días, I was very disappointed and ended up eating two dürüm kebabs (they're doner kebabs wrapped in a mexican tortilla instead of a pita -- amazing). 

Had some wine and yemas (yemas are yolks in Spanish, but yemas de Ávila are candies made from yolks covered in sugar. Really sweet, pretty tasty too. Made up for the fact I didn't get any wine nor postre (dessert), as one would if they had a menú del día. We intended to go to some basilica but there were problems with payments or something (they didn't give us receipts and that's what we needed), so we just shrugged our shoulders and headed home, passing out on the bus because I was dead tired. 

Good times.

Oh, and Happy Thanksgiving to you imperialist American Indian killers tomorrow!

No, but seriously, I'm going to miss Thanksgiving. Hope you all have fun and drink one for me and eat a biscuit and gravy sammich for me too!

The best way to cheer up when classes, school, and host families suck

A menú del día.

While a healthy (read: not healthy) serving of red wine. Arroz a la cubana (this time with a banana!) and huevos with tomato sauce and chorizo (not so good chorizo though). Sitting back and relaxing, the itis sinking in. Icing on cake, The Simpsons on T.V. How fun. That's how those extremely dull literature classes that convinced me that I really do have ADD were wiped from my mind and I was in a state of bliss (which apparently the closest Spanish word is éxtasis). 

But then I had to teach those kids. No bigs, just had to play a board game I made up with them for an hour, then back to the good life. Headed out to a new favorite café, Café Continental, which is where I'm at still, three hours later. They have WiFi, how cool? Oh, and cheap mojitos--though I see why they're cheap, they taste less than good. Ungood if you will. They use spiced rum instead of the traditional (and in this case, better tasting) white rum. The juice, I am told, is not good here as well, and the margarita is more like a martini than a margarita, which really isn't a problem but it's just false advertising. 

Been spending the afternoon flying through homework so I don't have to do it tomorrow or Thursday (no more homework for the rest of the week and it's only Tuesday)...so tomorrow, no tutoring, no homework--going to hopefully spend the day attempting to write something cool. Perhaps a short story, perhaps the beginning (or middle! or end!) of a book. 

Was spending the rest of the afternoon looking at my possible classes for next semester then for this summer and next year back in Madison. I only have 40 more credits to graduate. Sure, I could just graduate with a Spanish major, but I want to do LACIS too so I don't feel like a complete bum. And I want to take some French but that would just prolong my stay in Madison (not that that would be a bad thing, it's just I don't know when Obama's $4,000 tuition credit is going to be cutting in). If that does happen to happen though, perhaps I'll just ride out a few more years in school just learning stuff I want to. Already planning on taking more creative writing classes when I get back. Every time I look at my schedule and plans I think I know what the heck is going on and get a huge headache then look at it the next day and I feel completely lost again.

But hey.