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. 

¡Qué perezoso!

Ok, so maybe it's been two weeks and I haven't updated. Very sorry for that folks but I'll try harder to keep this updated more.

You see, I've just been doin' stuff. And things. And when I get home at the end of the day of doing stuff I'm usually not in the mood to type so more. I do force myself to write every night in my journal, even if I don't at all feel like it (you should see how illegible the more drunken entries are) -- but getting on the computer and typing is a different story, I suppose. And I apologize, though I've kept in contact with you guys anyways, so you know I haven't died at all. That much is for sure.

What have I been doing? Hmm...

Last I left off was the day before election day. Holy crap a lot has happened since then.

Election night here was interesting. We are six hours ahead of the east coast, so about the time polls were closing in the States, most people were already in bed and asleep. But not me. I pleaded and begged my friend Monica to implore her parents to keep the internet on all night (I steal it from her house since it's so close by). They relented and I stayed up watching a live feed of MSNBC and having about four other tabs open on my computer with maps and percentages and all that good stuff about the election. It was 4a.m. and it looked like Obama was going to win but there was no way I was going to go to bed until it was official. Around 10p.m. central time, the election was going to be called, I could tell, as soon as the West Coast polls closed. At about 9:50p.m. central time, the internet cut off. I frantically called Monica and my mom and Angie back home to tell them there are problems and they might need to relay the results to me in a few minutes. Monica scrambled, thankfully, and got the internet turned back on at 10p.m. CST, the live feed to MSNBC came back in the moment they got back from commercial and announced Barack Obama as the next president of the United States.

Now keep in mind it was 5a.m. in Spain. The streets were quiet and dark. I was in my room with the lights off, on the phone with my mom. I had been up for nearly 24 hours. I was shaking. I couldn't fall asleep. I called Armani to let her know, her mom had already called her. We were both freaking out, too excited and too emotional to do anything but just run around in awe. I was pacing throughout my room trying not to wake up my host parents. I quickly scribbled in my journal a few words of disbelief then tried to fall asleep.

Received a text from our teacher a few hours later saying she was sick and class was cancelled. I like to believe she was just giving us the day off because she knew we were up awaiting the results. I slept soundly until my second class, then headed in.

That night was a time for celebration. Maya, Monica, and myself headed to our favorite café/bar, Macandé and got a bottle of cava (Spanish champagne). Maya and myself downed it and stumbled to meet up with the rest of our friends. I was in an American mood so I demanded a hamburger, but the best place to get burgers in town (a bar called la Amstelería -- literally "the Amstel shop") was full because there was a football game on. Regrettably we went to Tony Roma's. Regrettable only because I hate being that American that goes to the only American restaurant in town, a chain no less. Whatever, I was excited, Obama will be our new President, time to celebrate. I got a burger and wine. Later we headed to a new fun café/bar we found called Café Renacimiento (Renacimiento=Renaissance). The building appears to be an old church or temple, and it's about three stories tall with plenty of seating everywhere. We've been there on weekend nights and it fills up quickly at night.

Post-election? My mind was still racing from my pre-election fury. Ask anyone here and I was not a fun person to be around before the election because I was constantly freaking out, worried, and anxious about the outcome. Now, of course, I've calmed down.

We had the usual botellón on Thursday. We ended up at the karaoke bar singing, appropriately, "We Are the Champions." The spirit of victory constantly remained with us the triumphant ones (unfortunately one of our amigas here is a--dare I say it--McCain supporter. Or rather, was.), Friday was filled with more celebrations, wine and tapas and raciones in the afternoon, café after café of celebratory rounds. It was and still is a great time to be an American. Very different though being abroad, it gives you a new perspective I suppose. Everyone here was extremely excited for Obama and us Americans. For once we weren't hated!

La Luna would have been on Friday if I had not had a bad run in with Lambrusco on our way there (it's something to say when you can walk past a cop with a bottle of wine in our hand...), having stuffed myself again at dinner, taking swigs of carbonated beverages was not a good idea. I went home early.

Unfortunately ended up staying in altogether on Saturday because I was beat from the rest of the week, the week of craziness, so many emotions packed into so few days and hours at times is very dangerous.

Then Sunday, the day everyone universally dreads. The day of waking up tired, not wanting to shower or change, having a mountain of homework to do, and generally being grumpy. You can't ever get to sleep, causing Mondays to suck too, you don't feel like going out because you have all this homework but you really want to get some fresh air, to escape the monotony of the house. Yeah, Sundays pretty much suck. So that's why we headed to Madrid to watch a movie--in English! "Burn After Reading" if you haven't seen it (came out in September in the States) is the new Coen brothers movie, a comedy about espionage and misunderstanding, really. It's quite good and I recommend seeing it if it's still in theatres by you.

That was two weeks ago, the fated election week. It's lunch time now but after I do that I'll let you all know what happened this past week. And what a week it was.

Oh, and I'll stop being lame too, what with the whole not-updating-in-forever thing. Oh and if I ever get stable and quick internet at the home location I'll upload some cool photos I've taken recently here in Alcalá.

Exámenes

So midterms are this week.

And just like that, the reality slowly seeps in (as it should have two months ago) that I'm here to study in a university. The notion seems crazy, I know. I'm in Spain for nine months you would think that I should be learning via experience and not having to worry about homework, tests, and papers. And yet I must. Sure, it's probably less of a deal than at Madison. But then again, at Madison it didn't seem like a big deal at the time. Well, of course before the exams last year I was freaking out, thinking they'd be really hard, then studying...to an extent. But that's how it's always been with me. I'd barely study for an exam in high school and do well on it, wondering what everyone was fretting for before. The same could be said about Columbia, but let's not kid ourselves, that place was a joke and a half. 

Though the argument could be made that by thinking an exam would be bad and studying more for it (and by more, an extra hour!), I better prepared myself for the exam, thus making it seem easy. If I hadn't worried and did some extra studying who knows if I would have done as well or had the test seem as easy?

And then there's the stories I've been told by everyone who has studies abroad. It's very easy, they'd say. There's no homework, there's maybe a paper or two and a final test which isn't a really big deal. I've found this out to be a flat out lie, at least concerning the Alcalá program. While I'm sure that in Valladolid there was virtually no homework, there is not a day where I do not have at least one bit of (mostly busy) work in at least one class.

The mentality to sit down at a desk and focus on the book in front of you is not present for me. Even in Madison it was hard since there was so much going on, but even the biggest procrastinators and homework abusers eventually sat down in the study den and worked, for hours on end usually. There is no study den here where we get together and do homework, albeit slowly and with many interruptions for conversation and hijinks. No. There isn't even a desk in my house for me to work at, which was supposed to be a requirement of the host family. No, I have a "cheat the system" make-shift pullout desk. It is part of the closeting, it swings down on very unstable pulleys and doesn't even leave room for me to sit down before I'm on the bed. Yes, I could sit on the bed, I suppose, but where's the back support? Oh wait, I couldn't even do that. The desk would break if I even put a book on it, would hate to think what would happen if I rested my arms on it while furiously scribbling out a paper. Or typing on my laptop. 

So working at home is out. Starbucks seems to be the best option as the library is too quite for it's own good, and spoken English and the fact that you're American could get you in trouble just for being there. We have our own study area, they'd tell us, down in the basement. An area completely unconducive (which I've learned is not a word, but screw it, I'm a pioneer, start using it!) to studying or getting anything done. For me, at least. A strict quite rule, horribly pale white and barren walls, sixteen chairs maybe down a line on a long table. In a hallway. 

So Starbucks it is. Thankfully Spaniards generally hate Starbucks (save for the younger generation) so anytime between noon and five it's completely devoid of anyone upstairs. And their coffee is the only coffee in Spain that has caffeine in it, or so it would seem. As I've mentioned before, all the espresso and café solos I can get in any regular bar do nothing for me, but give me a grande or venti black coffee from Starbucks and I'm shaking uncontrollably and actually getting work done. And the American jazz and blues music on the speakers doesn't hurt. And the comfortable seating and big table space. And the fact you can talk and work with your study buddies. 

So there is one place I can actually get work done in Spain. I'm heading there after I write this, actually. Still leaves the questions of do I have the motivation to get work done in a place so beautiful and lively as Spain. Not that Madison or Chicago weren't lively. But there I felt like I was actually living, you know, at home. There I had fun but also had to do work, as is expected when you're at home. Spain, for me, is still that fun vacation place, the cool old European country with plenty of ancient corridors and buildings to explore. Food to eat and wine to drink. I just need to realize that I am living here, and for the next--what is it now? 7 months?-- this is my home and I better damn get used to it and do work.

I have two compositions due this week and an exam I have tomorrow. Whether or not I'll actually study for it remains to be seen. I'm sure I'll put in an hour--okay half hour--and be all the wiser for it tomorrow. 

Recuerdos

And I sat there in phonetics class today...drifting off since the material I had already learned and seemed quite easy (how hard is it to separate into syllables and find the accentuation?)...thinking, of Madison. How I miss those Tuesday afternoons, fresh off of Spanish 223 I'd pick up the latest Onion and sit in the Trilling lounge reading over it, amusing myself with a select few others who were just arrive back from class or waking up. Mitch and Ian were usually there, Jake every once in a while. We'd sit and chat and laugh, then head off to lunch. As I said then, and it's still true now, lunch was typically my favorite part of the day, and definitely so on Tuesdays. We'd gorge and sit around the Don's table or else in the atrium for what turned out to be hours on some occasions. I'd get a flavored coffee (and I'd be damned if it was Chocolate Raspberry), trying always to get Mitch to drink it. Then we'd head back up to the lounge after lunch, coffee in hand, and just chill for the afternoon--no one wanted to do homework, or head off to their next class (though luckily for me I was done for the day). Then after some time Jeanne and Kayla and Kyle and Amanda and others would filter in, lunch trays in hand, and plop themselves down and it'd be a blast. 

The lunches are much quieter, here. Usually it's me and abuela. Sometimes her granddaughter. The selection, of course, is not a plentiful. There is no choice, and I end up eating soup most days. There are no reubens, there are no Chicken-Os, no Cuban pork sandwiches, no rare-but-delicious breaded chicken sandwiches, no cheeseburgers, no Brew City fries, no made to order quesadillas nor never-ending pasta buffets nor gigantic burritos covered in far too much guacamole and sour cream, and definitely no dirt cake. There is soup, pinto beans, garbanzo beans, lentils, noodles (not quite what you'd think). And bread. Plenty of baguette style bread, which varies in quality from something quite amazing to what appears to be styrofoam masking itself as something edible. 

There is no lounge to relax and digest the meal in. No Irish Cream nor French Vanilla nor Kahlúa coffees (and I can tell you why there is an accent mark on the "u" now), straight black. There is café con leche, which varies widely depending on the café you frequent. I've found one solid cup of café con leche so far in Alcalá. The rest seem to be imposters, heating milk in the microwave and tossing in instant coffee, as los abuelos do in the morning, a taste so offensive that it could turn me off of café con leche altogether. Café solo (black coffee) is served strong and small. It more resembles espresso (café cortado) than coffee we're used to in the States. If I order a café solo anywhere, I get this tiny shot of Spanish coffee, which I don't mind the taste (remember I love dark and bitter coffees and beers), but it's so small and perks me up so little that I feel like I'm wasting the 1.20€ it costs. At least with leche you get a full cup. And yet there is no Cedarburg Coffee Roastry where the refills are free and you get to choose from 4 differently delicious brews. Only one, and refill is 1.20€. There is a Starbucks in town, I'm far too afraid to go in there though as doing so would feel like I'm giving up, quitting, not embracing the new culture here. Wasting, if you will, the opportunity to have fine Spanish coffees while I'm here. And yet I've still to find that fine Spanish coffee, perhaps there is a café hidden from us foreigners where the delicious coffee flows freely and cheaply. Where there are large cups filled with black coffee of all regions and flavors. Where there is the strong smell of roasted beans and the absence of any TV screen. 

So now when I go to a café, I rarely get coffee. I haven't had a cup in days. Strange, I know, considering my 3+ during the school year and summer. I don't know if I can survive like this, without large quantities of coffee. Sure, I don't need it to stay up (in fact I have trouble sleeping often), but there's definitely something missing. I end up, instead, sharing a bottle of wine with friends, often having upwards of 3 cups in an afternoon. It's enjoyable, and I've grown quite the tongue for red wine (there isn't a bad red wine I've had here yet), but it doesn't give me that kick, that je ne sais quoi (o mejor, en español, yo no sé qué) that a bold cup of coffee does.

I've already planned my first full day back (or at least the meals): 

Breakfast: Fried egg (over hard, of course...something that they don't do in Spain) sandwich, on an egg bagel from Bagels Forever. Coffee.

Lunch: Homemade reubens (as Cedarburg is severely lacking in establishments with quality reubens). Afterwards, hours upon hours of coffee at the Roastry.

Dinner: Gigantic burrito from Chipotle, or an otherwise very spicy meat and cheese combination with plenty of sour cream and guacamole (perhaps my special recipe spicy meatloaf). Afterwards, an evening at Silver Creek, outside on the beer garden, legally drinking quality beer.

Is it bad that I'm already pondering this? It's not like I hate Spain, not by any means, I suppose this is my slow, drawn out "cultural shock" period that everyone usually goes through their first few days. I didn't have that at first, and it's definitely not panic-inducing. It's just gradual, the things I realize that I really miss from time to time. It's my quest this year to find at least one place in Madrid that serves a reuben.