[Body] Language

I have encountered many people on my travels through Europe for the past few months. The fact that not everybody speaks perfect English or Spanish (myself included), makes for some great conversations filled with hand-motions and repetition and guessing. There are universal motions for taking a picture, for saying 'excuse me' and 'thank you', as well as showing anger. Even if you are spoken to in a different language, tonal clues and facial expressions clearly express whether someone is hitting on you or trying to tell you a car is coming and you better move.

I was thinking about language barriers this Pentecost weekend as I attended mass in the mountains on the local parish excursion. Whether or not my reader is religious, the biblical story behind Pentecost is prevalent today for the global world. Pretty much, the Holy Spirit came down from the heavens to give the disciples courage to spread Jesus' message of love around the world. The disciples found themselves able to communicate to everybody around the world this message of love. Who knows if they actually were able to speak in 6,500 different languages (the so-called count as of 1996) or if they were just able to communicate through a more powerful method: that of actions. And that's true today, albeit many people know basic English, I have found a lot of people understand the language of love even better.

In the first month in Madrid, I was having a hard time practicing my Spanish enough. I spoke Spanish at home with the lady I lived with, Rosa. But my classes were with Americans, and mostly Californians. That's cool and all, but I needed some Spanish friends. Well I emailed the director and she connected me with a Spanish student that was looking to practice her English. Laura and I had a great time talking about not much and switching back and forth between our two native tongues. A few times when I would be explaining something and she would get lost, or visa-versa, we just laughed it off. We had a few great double dates with Meeka and Nerea too- picture below. Quite a cuatro, I must say:


Other situations have arouse as well, from carrying a dog down metro stairs, to having a police escort from one town to the next. A more difficult situation was getting directions in Athens to a hostel. Picture Spanish-speaking Californians intending to interpret an Italian-speaking Greek man. Somehow it worked.

The most propelling 'lost in translation' experience was in Southern France with my parents and my sister. We were on our way from Lourdes in southern France to a beach town in Spain (Salou, just below Barcelona). We had a heavy 8 hour drive ahead of us. Two hours in, we were stalled because He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named put the wrong gasoline in our rental car at a gas station outside of Toulousse. Fortunately, we found someone to help us at the gas station, but our young towman didn't speak any English. Neither did anybody at the relatively-nearby mechanic shop. Somehow we were able to communicate three vital things: how to pay, how to get back to the freeway, and how grateful we were for their help. It was quite entertaining watching my dad in the front seat of the pick-up truck trying to communicate with the French man with gestures and expressions. Though the French man didn't understand anything, I think he got the point that my dad felt quite silly about the whole thing. Here's some body language for ya:





I have learned that hugs and smiles can mean more than anything I can say in English or Spanish. I have just arrived in Sevilla a couple weeks ago. In southern Spain, their dialect of Spanish is completely different. They 'swallow' the 's' and drop the end of words. I could go on and on about the slight differences, but you'll just have to wait until I get back to California to hear it all. But in the first weeks here, I found that smiles and kisses on both cheeks made up for my awkward accent and long-winded responses. Another challenge is teaching Spanish to French-speaking immigrants, which is especially difficult when you are not fluent yourself. Really, what I'd like to say, is that as silly as I can feel speaking with Spanish kids in the classroom, with immigrants that can't catch my accent, and with nuns with thick Andalusian accents, we are all communicating in one language, that of love.

Last thing: The 94-year-old nun, Sister Angustia tells some great stories. I can't always understand her, but her smile and excitement in her eyes makes me laugh at her jokes even when I don't know what she said. I find myself doing that all too frequently. With that said, cheers to [body] language!

Futbol, how I miss you

It's quite an ironic statement to make, as I am in Europe where football/soccer is more popular than, well, everything. I came to Spain with the intention of playing everyday but that hasn't quite happened.

In Madrid, my friend and fellow football-lover told me of a cool field in the middle of my favorite park. We decided to see if we could find a pick-up game to join in. As two girls, we are used to being welcomed with only a slight hesitation into a pick-up game if we are playing at Underhill in Berkeley. But this time was the contrast- the french men said their numbers were already enough and they had no room for us. It was clearly an excuse to avoid having two girls play with them.

That was my first lesson about football in Spain- the game is more important than girls. The next lesson I learned was with a conversation with a Northern Spain gentleman who tactfully told me that the only girls on his co-ed football team were not straight. Football in Europe is equivalent to American football; it's a man's game. For the past few months I have seen football games all over Spain and Europe; rarely do I see a girl playing. It's not that girls can't play, they just don't do so very often. The above, combined with traveling and other distractions, has made a ball a distant, long-lost friend to my left foot. The last time I went this long without playing soccer was when I was recovering from my knee surgery. This time, not as painful.

I am not complaining because what my life has lacked in football, I have made up in dancing, an equally important element in my life. I have finished my semester in Madrid and I traveled Europe for a month (including two crazy weeks with my parents). So finally I arrive in Sevilla, beginning my summer volunteer program. And guess what? At night from my window, I have a great view of a summer football league. With the fresh air and after a hard day's work, it's a great place to look up to the moon, look down to the cement-field, and wind down with a cup of tea...to an intense, enthralling football game. This field is at the end of the neighborhood, on the side of the freeway, and my window has the best view.

It's a bitter-sweet injection of soccer adrenaline for me, because I find it very peaceful to watch, but it also makes my feet itch to play. Then again, these guys are really good, and I am sure I am pretty rusty at this point. For now, I am enjoying the view of the unsuspecting football field at the end of Vasco de Gama Street, even if the games endure way past my bedtime and I have to wear earplugs to drown out the noise.

These are a few of my favorite things: Madrid edition

So this is my post-Madrid post that should have gone up immediately after my semester ended. Anyways, with inspiration from the Sound of Music, these are a few of my favorite things [in Madrid]:

1. Running in Retiro park throughout the semester and seeing the trees become more volumptous with leaves, in particular the jasmin-blossom grove when they fell delicately on the ground below.

2. Greeting people with kisses on both cheeks.

3. The impeccable, and inspirational, Spanish wardrobe. Even the babies were stylish.

4. Tapas and the environment at El Tigre, for now I can at least appreciate the ham that all the Spaniards go loco for.

5. Beregenas relleno, a filled eggplant dish that Rosa my host-mom cooked for us frequently, complete with a Spanish dose of olive oil.

6. My intercambio Laura and our fun Thursday lunch conversations, spending most of it talking about one meaning of a Spanish or English word or joking about talking backpacks; inevitably I would walk in late to my language class after losing track of time.

7. Visiting friends who are studying abroad as well and seeing them in their new environment and seeing how they live- so real.

8. Dancing at discotecas and being certain the following songs will come on:
-Shakira: La Tortura
-Don Omar: Danza Kuduro
-Edward Maya: Stereo Love
-Pitbull: the Anthem
-David Guetta: Who´s that chick
-DJ Kicky: Papa Americano
-Black Eyed Peas: The Time
-Stromae: Alors on Danse

9. El Son salsa club! The best way to improve your Spanish as well as learn some great moves from some Columbian and Puerto Ricans.

10. Plaza del Sol and its newest look, as young adults peacefully demonstrated their need for job opportunities in the poor Spanish economy. Check out these pictures: (soon to come)

You know, Madrid, it´s been real. I know it was a brief 3 or 4 months, but they were really awesome. You will always hold a special place in my heart, especially your magnificent park. It´s not you, it´s me. In the words of the great Lelia Richardson-Diltz, my previous summer´s camp director, mooooovin on...to Sevilla!

Madrid Media Maraton

You might think that I am lying to myself, but it was actually really fun! Once I got past the initial shock that the course was mostly uphill and that even though my legs felt like rocks by kilometer 9, I realized that I was really enjoying myself.

I've found here in Madrid that I am like a moth to light or a Spaniard to ham, when it comes to festivals and lots of people in one location. Whether it is a smokey discoteca, a fallas festival with loud fireworks amongst the streets of Valencia, or thousands of disguised, costumed young people in the streets of Cadiz for Carnival, I live for the crowd, and the chaos and energy that come with it.

This past Sunday, the crowd was a healthier group but the spirit was the same. The madrileños woke up relatively early for the gunshot at 9:30am. We had people cheering us on the side of the streets yelling, "Ánimo, ánimo, venga, venga!", which is somehow even more encouraging in Spanish. At one corner, I noticed a reverse in cheering- the runners were cheering as they were turning. As I got closer, I saw two adorable nuns sitting on the curb watching the race and cheering on the runners. Yet these nuns were getting more attention than us; I couldn´t help but smile.

The hardest kilometers were 19 and 20, just before the final kilometer. Kilometer 19 involved a cruel and intentional uphill into the Parque del Retiro and kilometer 20 involved a tease: just when we thought we were going to turn left to run in to the finish, the race took us on a long and arborous path where we passed right along the runners that had already finished the loop. Yet, through it all, I made it in just over two hours, and all of my friends finished as well.

We got some sweet shirts out of it; even more so we got a sweet tour of the city! From the energy of the crowd to the views of the city to the proud feeling after crossing the finish line, I will forever remember the Madrid half marathon. And I will choose to forget the pain I felt today getting to school and back ;)

Where the Heck is Matt? (2008)

This video is so cool! With the combination of the song track and all the people gathering together to dance, it never fails to put a smile on my face when I watch it. I hope it does the same for you :)

Soy de California

I have said these three words numerous times over the past two months and it inevitably invokes a great reaction. Whether the reaction is "oh que guai!" (how cool) o "en serio?" (seriously) o "no lo creo" (I don't believe it), or just a nod and smile of acknowledgement, I alway appreciate it.

Today Meeka and I went on a double date with our intercambio friends, Laura and Nerea, and we had such a good time just hanging out and talking with them. In Spanish class, we were discussing general events that can change a person's life. One of them was living in another country and learning another language. For me, I can see that change happening in my life. After living in Spain for only two months, I am beginning to see how other people live and think(particularly Spaniards) differently from me. For this, I am also learning a lot about myself. It's pretty cool :)

As a side note, this past weekend I was fortunate enough to visit my good friend Sarah in Prague. Given that it has been about a year since we have seen each other, we had a great time to say the least. I was pleasantly surprised to find that beer is cheaper than water in the Czech Republic and that per capita, the Czech people drink the most beer in the world- crazy! Well, cheers to catching up with old friends and getting to know new ones! What a blessed life.

Andalusia and all of its intricacies

The past two weekends I have had the pleasure of visiting three distinct areas in the Andalusian region, and I must say it has left a strong impression on me, from the architecture to the people to the nap on the beach. Here is a picture from the mosque in Córdoba, a close-up of the detail in an arch. I was amazed by the intricity of every column and arch.

The first weekend I went to Córdoba and Granada with my EAP program. Although both cities were very different, I feel that we were there for such a short time that I more so returned to Madrid with a taste of what Andalusia was like. One of my favorite parts of the trip was the bus drive from Córdoba to Granada which took us through groves of olive trees that completely covered the hills as far as I could see. We had just passed what looked like a castle on top of a distant hill, and then the bus pulled over for a bathroom break. My friend Alli and I had been intrigued by the castle so naturally, we went to try and find a good view of it. We ended up within an olive grove where we stumbled upon wildflowers and a Spanish villa. There was a moment where we looked at each other and I think it was Alli that suggested that we frolicked. So indeed we did- we frolicked in an olive tree grove, laughing the whole time about how ridiculous we were being. After we got a good picture with the castle on the hill, we promptly returned to the bus.


The mosque in Córdoba and the Alhambra in Granada were so awesome; I found myself imagining what it would have been like to live in that time period and I concluded that I would have been just as weird. (Side note: After Bianca commented today that I was weird, I told her at least I'm not boring haha) Here is a picture of a horse show that we saw in Córdoba, in which I saw horses in a whole new light and experienced a depth within the human-horse relationship, albeit in third-person as the observer.

We saw a flamenco show in Córdoba as well, which made me want to not only be a dancer, but to be a Spanish mujer with the romantic intensity she held in her eyes. Though I realize I would have a hard time not smiling for two hours.

The following weekend I went to Cádiz for Carnaval, and though I was only at Carnaval officially for one night, I had such a great time meeting gente from all over Spain- Granada, Málaga, Sevilla, Bilbao, todo. All of the costumes were crazy and everyone was having a great time, more or less. I juggled with the "Barcelona" futbol team, I was asked what kind of shampoo I use, my friend was saved by real-live Power Rangers, and I learned the meaning of ´chulo´. It is something like arrogant but the Bilbaon man explaining it was saying that the people in northern Spain in his region are chulo, and also gentlemen. He proved that true as he waited with me while I looked for my friends, oyy veyy. The crowd was huge, and what I was expecting was a big spectacle of lights or a performance. But really what I experienced was a large boteon (street drinking) and a performance of traditional Spanish songs from a group of men that looked like a bunch of mad-hatters with their wigs. That part was kind of weird, to be honest. It is mostly because I didn´t understand and it was far from what I expected. Evenso, it was all just amazing!


Besides that, I had gone down with the Eurovibe group and we were staying outside of Cadiz, where all the Carnaval activites were happening. But it turned out to be the best thing since Spain itself- I got to walk on the beach, which I haven´t done for months! Actually I should clarify- I first walked on the beach, and then on our way home Javier and I took a different route and ended up walking barefoot through the streets of a town that I couldn´t tell you the name of hah. Luckily, it wasn´t tourist season and it was oddly quiet. I also ran and took a dip in the water on Sunday, and felt so alive and refreshed after. Anyways, I really love Andalusia after my experiences there, and I have only heard great things about Sevilla so I am looking forward to that time in my life. This summer I will be staying in Sevilla for two months and volunteering with VIDES, where my sister is currently. She said I am in for a [re]treat...Palmer joke!

On another note, I found myself listening to Christmas music. That is always a sign that I miss home. So saludos to home, I will indeed be home well before Christmas!

On the beach napping, quite typical.