monedas = moneys
Ayuntamiento = helpfulness

and so forth.

There is a mountain in Barcelona called Montjuïc. I prefer to think of it as “Juice Mountain”. Hannah, Jon and I went to Juice Mountain one day by riding the “Funicular” (I cannot even improve on a name like that”

On Juice Mountain, in 1992, they had the summer olympics. We got to see the olympic diving board, set again a magnificent backdrop of the entire city, some odd hundreds of meters below us. And Madrid has the audacity to want to host the 2016 olympics. (Madrid is the only Spanish city thus far I dislike more than Salamanca, and frankly I’ve been a bit hard on the latter lately)

Barça, Barça, Baaaaarrrça!!!

Oh, right, that reminds me, there was some sort of championship game in Rome the day we got there, between Barcelona (Barça en Catalán) and Manchester. We rode the disco ferry (but were too tired to disco) with a bunch of Barça fans going to Rome. A bit tiring at the end, but I loved the city so much that I hoped (very very very sincerely) that they wouldwin. And hey, they did!

Funny little story. We were in such a rush to get on the ferry that I failed to register when we had entered it. I proceeded to ask, at the front desk (within the ferry) which direction to Rome. The twin looks I got from Hannah and the clerk were hopefully more memorable than my idiotic question. Jeez, I barter up, complement a woman on the amount of cocaine in her cake, ask for a phone card and get a gaming magazine, ask how much a beer costs and get four of them, and so on. Let’s face it, there’s a problem here and it’s not related to using a second language. Beside, the ferry desk incident was conducted in English, I think.

Well, hopefully Hannah’s iPod shuffle is charged enough to make it through all the travelling I have ahead of me. I’m amazed at how long it’s lasted, and it didn’t say it was low, but just wanted to make sure. I’m glad I picked the 100 songs I did, cause I’m going to here a whole lot more of them soon! Lots of Radiohead, Okkervil, Mountain Goats, R.E.M, some Marco Polio and Mouse (with and without the love and light orquestra), um, Lola by the Kinks. Anyway, it charges in the USB cable, so that’s part of why I’ve been at the computer so long.

I called the family tonight, partly to burn away some of those extra euro on my phone that I’ll never get refunded. Also wanted to talk, though I was thinking of waiting till I had my old phone in the states again.

Strange how I feel about Salamanca now, I’ve enjoyed several other cities more, but it was still fun to really know the streets in one of them. To be able to walk half drunk amongst what could’ve been a maze if I didn’t lived there. Frankly, the people there (over 30 at least) are not very open, and this is the problem I had. Of course, Francisca was great, and plenty of them were probably very nice too, it’s just that (for the majority), you can’t expect me to keep impressed that you speak “el mejor castellano en el mundo” if you’re too stuck up to speak it with me, if you switch into english and refuse to switch back the second I flounder or fail to speak in your precious Salmantino accent.

I cracked the joke today about Salamancans not talking with me when I was visiting the Orihuels in Benissa (between Valencia and Alicante). In that area, as in Barcelona, they speak Catalan. Granted, it’s a different dialect that everyone from the area prefers to call “Valenciano”, but it’s a subset of the same language. The point is, it doesn’t really matter which language you speak, and getting super precious about your own only shuts away contact. They were very nice, of course offering me an immense amount of food both because they’re from southern europe and because I’m family. I messed up at Spanish more than a few times; I assigned the wrong gender to “ciudad” and at one point commented on how much cocaine there was in the cake. (coconut=coco, cocaine=coca, I think you can see where I went wrong from here). Alicia, Jose’s wife, even corrected me a few times, but at least they heard me out. Same with Jorge and Maria from Murcia. Same with most people in Cordoba and Granada, and in Barcelona.

I could write more about the family, but I think I’ll save that for private discussions. Those who want to know will obviously hear, and I do have a couple of fotos that I’ll email as soon as I can. But that’ll have to wait into I’m in the city.

3 days?!!

I’m clearly mismatched with my hostel, seeing as I want to sleep at two in the morning and just about everyone else wants to drink in the room and talk. I’m just tired, I’ve done all I can do here for now.

About yesterday though, incredible! Started the day at Park Güell, which Maria K accurately described as “Dr. Seussville” It’s a park on a hill, designed by Gaudi (the guy responsible for at least half the amazing things to see in the city). Met a guy from Japan who’s currently biking around the world. Sat and talked with other Americans about studying abroad (we are everywhere, I swear)! Later sat aon a bench in Plaça Catalunya and talked with a Lithuanian kid and a guy who just returned to Barcelona for the first time in 35 years (his family fled the Franco regime when he was 16). I told him that I hope he finds the city better than he left it (which of course is going to be true). It’s such an open, inviting place. People really can just do whatever, at long as they arent hurting anyone doing it. There was a guy not far from us dancing alone, for hours. Strange, but what’s so wrong with that? That’s what I talked about with the Lithuanian kid, but that’s another story I guess.

Glad to know it was worth coming back to Barcelona. Just wish I could save a few more euros somewhere. Oh well, I have what I think is all the food I’ll need till the flight (close at least: 3 large baguettes, 5 apples, a jar of peanut butter (need protein) and these “Digestive biscuits” popular in Spain cause noone seems to eat enough fiber! Or maybe thats just if you’re in a host family…) Of course, I get to eat with the Orihuels on Saturday. I’m excited but a bit nervous. It’s hard for me to start talking in Spanish, especially with the lak of practice lately. I recently forgot how to say “buy”. (comprar, it’s 7th grade spanish vocab)!

Back in NYC june 9th (have I said that on here already?) To Alfred-Hornell not too long after. Details forthcoming.

tomorrow, june 2nd: Fly from Rome to Valencia. Ryanair is a pain but I took care of everything. anyways, train to Barcelona that evening. I fell in love with Barcelona when I went with Hannah and Jon, and want to see a lot more.

there till June 5th, then Benissa, Salamanca to get luggage, flight out.

It was GREAT travelling with Hannah and Jon, felt longer than just 10 days (in a good way, of course). The last day and today I was stressed though, trying to get everything sorted out with Rome.

on rented computer time, so that’s all for a few more days, at least. not that I’ve kept on this.

Miss you, Salamanca people!

a) I’ve never gotten to host anyone in “my” city, (not that I blame anyone for never coming to Potsdam or Alfred!)
b) We get to go to Barcelona and Italy!!
c) It’s Hannah!! And Jon! What’s not to be excited about?!!!

Mixed in with that excitement, of course, is the recognition that the semester is ending, and that I have to leave soon. Maybe it took me a little long to warm up to the people and my situation here, but I really will miss everyone and everything. But enough of that, we’ve got one more night here and it’s gonna be a good one!

I forget if I mentioned before, too lazy to look, but I fly into JFK on June 9th. Then I’ll go to Alfred a day or two later. I’ll be in D.C. starting in the last week of June, with Montana to follow in early August I believe.

I’m lazy, plus she’s a lot more thorough than I am.

there’s a link on the side, says “Steph’s blog” or “Steph en el Mundo”

last final today! Now I’m just waiting for this stomach pain to go away. Lame.

Well, at least there’s only a few days left. Plus I already make my 6 euros!

That’s more than I made that time last May in NYC, not counting that I also lost my wallet that night.

Probably.

Maybe I’ll just write about Morocco and Andalusia when I’m back. It’ll give me something to do. I get tired of writing about it after a few paragraphs every time.

There’s a line in a Mountain Goats song, the one I’m listening to now, “Source Decay”. It’s about a man frustrated with his old best friend for continuing to send him postcards and letters, asking him how he is and what he remembers from their shared past. The more he takes it out on his friend in the song, the more apparent it is that he is just as stuck in the past. So, which one of these characters am I going to be in the future?

Anyway, the refrain is “I remember the train heading south out of Bangkok, down towards the water” Is he talking about his own experience, or ironically “remembering” a scene from one of these postcards? If it’s the former, plug in Granada for Bangkok, mountains for water, for me.

It’s going to be so hard to return. Take the time to imagine life as a progression, and how against the flow it is to take a step back. Childhood -> high school -> college -> studying abroad -> back to college. But I’ll deal. I like you all too much, even if I don’t always show it.

Just don’t be too surprised if in the future, I should take that step and return here a little bit more permanently.

If you’re within reach of Danny Smith by chance, ask him to play you his song “Faces in the Clouds” It’s the one I’m listening to as I finish this. “Life is not about the places you see / No, it’s about the company you keep” Gets me every time.

So I was bartering for more or less the first time in Marrakesh. Actually I had tried to barter earlier that day, for a book that as it turned out had a fixed price. But this time I was in a street vendor, buying something (I can’t say what, it’s someone’s present). This item cost 60 dirham (moroccan money, about 6 euro or 8 dollars), I was determined to pay no more than fifty.

So let’s see where this determination takes me:

I start off well, going well under my final offer:

“I’ll pay…40 dirham”

the vendor thinks a moment, counters: “45″

“50!” I blurt out. (dammit!). Steph and Claire leave the store laughing, saying, “Did he just say…?” I cannot believe it. What did I just do?!!

I struggled to hide my interesting mixture of shame and amusement as I pay my 50 dirham (well, I didn’t going to pay more!). I guess technically it worked out, but I am convinced that noone has ever bartered up like I just did. The funny thing is, after a few minutes, I was the one who couldn’t stop laughing about it. This was thursday night, I still burst into fits of laughter about it.

Four beers, bartering up, what next?!!

In the tourism circle of “hey let’s look at pretty buildings”, Granada is very famous for one thing and one thing only: The Alhambra. I did not go to the Alhambra when I was there; I will be going with the group. Lots of people I talk to think that that’s the only thing in Granada worth seeing. I even thought this at first, which is why I planned to stay only one day.

Well, I was wrong (and also very uninformed). I got of the bus, took the #3 or whatever to the center of the city, and had to transfer to another bus. So far, Granada just looked like a general city, nothing interesting.

Then the second bus came. First of all, it was a short bus, and lots of people wanted to get on. I had my giant homemade rucksack (a backpack with belts rigged to hold my towel) and my laptop case which was funcioning as a clownishly oversized camera bag (in Malaga I caved and bought a small backpack for city exploring). So I ended up compressed into a corner of the bus with all this stuff.

Then the bus turned onto a narrow street. Then another. Up a steep hill. It barely fit on these roads. It bounced feet into the air on potholes and cracks in the cobblestone. But my stress quickly faded away when I looked out the window and saw where I was. The Albaicin. I hadn’t really looked up much on Granada or any of the other cities I saw before leaving because I had too much last minute stuff to take care of. So I didn’t really expect to be staying in a neighborhood that looks almost exactly the same as it did in the 1200′s under Arab rule. Tiny winding streets connecting in overlapping patterns or possibly lack of patterns. All the walls whitewashed. Spectacular views of the Alhambra (the Albaicin is situated on one hill facing another on which lies the Alhambra).

Checked into the hostel, a small inconspicious backpackers place on a street the width of a small car. Run by nice people, one girl asked me a couple questions about English (she wanted to know what someone had meant by the ‘highlight’ of a bar or something.) Also, and if you know me, you know what a big deal this is, there was a spanish guitar there! Like, just sitting in the common room for anyone to play. I saved it for when I was waiting for laundry to dry, needed to get out and see this neighboorhood.

So I did.

Got lost for a while, which is fun. It was a little sketchy by this house up on the top of the hill (turned out to be a convent), and noone was around. Also I almost wandered into the gypsy neighborhood. It’s really more of a place you should be invited to (more on that later).

Yes, there are still gyspies. The gypsy neighborhood of Granada (Sacramonte) has over 2000 “caves”, homes dug into the earth, and is either the largest or one of the largest in the world.

Eventually I ended up going down the hill, near the “river” (it’s more of a creek or stream really) Most of the lower parts of the city are dull, but this part was near the Alhambra and had a good vibe. Lots of outdoor cafes ad stuff. I tried to get to the Alhambra just to look around. I found out you needed a ticket to go in and that because of Semana Santa, it was hard to get one and there were alot of crowds. Somehow, I failed to find the road to the Alhambra, and decided just to save it for the group trip.

The Semana Santa progression I saw back up in the Albaicin was one of the best I saw. It wasn’t particlarly big, but the location was perfect. Parts of Córdoba were kind of like this, but here it just felt more enclosed, it was more like it’s own city.

A little more wandering, then back to the hostel to do laundry. Played some guitar (I wrote something vaguely spanishe that just came back to me: Am Cm/A Dm/A E7b9 – so I don’t forget again). Sat on the balcony with an Australian guy and drank a couple Alhambra beers. Sadly, it’s not that great of a beer. But at least we had great views of the real Alhambra to drink to. Took more pictures. By the time it got dark my clothes were done and I hung them up there to dry. It was FREEZING and windy, but the girl at the desk assured me it wouldn’t rain.

I went down to the main part of the city to look for more progressions, which in retrospect was a bad idea. For one, I was already starting to get kindof sick of them (they’re not dramatically different from eachother). Also, I got lost on the way back to the hostel. Always plan your return route. I would’ve retraced my steps but I got lost trying to leave the Albaicin that night and just happened upon where I wanted to go. Also, I suck at relating a map to the surroundings it supposedly indicates. Even with help from several bartenders and waitresses (certain ones more than once), I had to take a taxi cause I gave up.

Next day, Tim (the Australian guy, I think that was his name), told me at breakfast about a english language group tour of Granada that was supposed to be cheap and actually pretty good. He said he was gonna go and talked me into it. Also at breakfast, and this was really surprising, I ran into a girl I had met at the hostel in Córdoba. Rafael (that can’t be her name) and I had talked about how we were both going to Granada, but she had left earlier than me because she couldn’t sleep. We were vaguely planning of taking the same bus which would’ve been nice. Funny I didn’t see her till breakfast though.

Went to the meeting place for the tour, which was not only just down the hill but also really close. If I could’ve figured out where I was going the last night I could’ve gotten back in 5 minutes.

The tour guide, as it turned out, was a guy from Oregon who started doing this so that he could keep living in Granada. He wasn’t a student or anything, didn’t say how he got there. He did it for tips (in the end I gave a modest 5 euro). The tour centered on the Albaicin, which was fine cause there really isn’t much of interest in the main part of the city. He Had a lot of good stories which I’ve already kindof interspersed in here. Showed how all the churches are actually converted mosques (you can see outlines of the arches). He told stories about the wine parties they’d have here under the Moors. They didn’t practice the strictest form of Islam here. Also, small history lesson, Granada was the last city in Spain to be taken from the Moors. This happened in 1492 (big year), and in fact Ferninand and Isabella were more proud of this than of sending Columbus on his way.

One thing he told us, and I found this both immensely interesting and funny, is that the Moors built the city in this location because they believed that heaven floated above the twin hills of the current Albaicin and Alhambra. He then joked about how this is what draws all the hippies to Granada. It was seriously like there was a convention, way more than in Potsdam! I forgot to mention earlier, but they all hang out at this one place called the Mirador de San Nicolas, in the Albaicin with one of the best views of the Alhambra. There they sit, twirling their dreads, beating on congas. Don’t wander too close, the guide said, or you’ll find yourself in the same`spot tomorrow doing arts and crafts in the sun.

Didn’t sound too bad, (though I would get real sick of that crowd real fast) but I had to get on my way. Lame. Wish I could’ve spent another day, but I’ll be sure to get back sometime.