MY Bad

Hot damn, it's been a minute. Myyyy bad. It's not that I didn't want to write, I just couldn't think of a good way to sum everything up before going to tutoring, eating, coffee, drinks, my bed, or anywhere else that involved getting out of the frio of Casa 5. This may not be the most detailed way of doing it, but I'll try to sum up the last month and change in a nutshell...

In the past month, I have:

traveled to Huelva and Cordoba again, and Granada for the first time.
seen an old friend, and realized that I have one too many elderly friends,
visited the Alhambra twice,

walked into a gyspy cave in Sacramonte,
gone to El Rocio, the town of the dirt roads, to several house parties,
ripped off flowery branches from a park in Sevilla,
watched a plate of ham, cheese, and chorizo disappear,
played hooky from my job,
learned that cagalera means "the runs",
purchased a ripped a new pair of jeans,
purchased four, and returned two pairs of boots,
picked up a gift for my mom just because,
convinced a friend to download Skype,
cried for no apparent reason, or a combination of many,
saw a friend from Madrid by way of Boston in Granada,
damn near passed out riding a bike or walking uphill,
gone between understanding everything and nothing,
debated how much longer I can stand to be away from home,
had to actually pay for a couple of my drinks,
had three novios and talked to one too many scandalous old men,
shooed a really roughed up looking stray cat out of the house,
played with a cat in the Generalife gardens,
lost 20 euro,
stayed in a really nice hotel and a practically barren hostel,
run out of my favorite lip balm,
straightened my hair,
gotten a hair cut,
debated some of my character flaws,
waited close to a week for my clothes to dry on the roof,
gone on a couple of shopping sprees,
renewed my Skype subscription (thanks Steph!),
fought off a cold with home remedies until i finally gave up and went to the pharmacy,
diagnosed myself with conjunctivitis. twice. and subsequently visited the eye doctor... for free.
bought yet another bufanda,
started wearing less than two turtlenecks on a daily basis,
made a face or shared a laugh with a 3rd, 5th, or 6th grader,
heard a 3rd and 6th grader say "joder", and wondered how serious the word really is,
got officially broken up with for the first time but wasn't really sad about it,

went to Donana National Park on a school field trip,
stood in the shower in disbelief for a couple minutes,
gotten told off by an old woman in Triana,
gotten stared down by would be grandpas and grandmas and realized that I still resalta mucho,
realized that my time here may have already changed me,
fought and won against denial,
stayed up til the wee hours of the morning talking,
hoped my efforts at tutoring are at least somewhat fruitful,
gone to a traje de flamenca fashion show in La Palma,
called in a few favors to get back and forth from La Palma,
re-realized the wonderful world of flowers,
gotten really hopeful about spring,
made a real effort in the job search,
and had my first visitor give me motivation to travel.

Anyhow, I have pictures documenting most of my life from the past month, and I fully intend to post them... just as soon as I get an external hard drive, because I don't know if my computer can handle all the memory necessary to download and save hundreds of pictures. Once I get on the ball, I guarantee they'll be worth seeing. The beauty of digital is being able to erase all the mishap photos you took and only keeping the good ones. I might have even convinced myself I have some skills. Alas. I'll see what I can do about actually sharing those skills in a more public venue than just the camera. Hasta entonces...

Tour of Bollullos

What a disgrace, it's colder in the house than it is outside?!?! I have returned to Bollullos, which is in southern Spain you know, but you wouldn't know it from walking around in my house. Temperatures drop at night, and all we have are pluggable radiators to fend off the cold. I need something blowing heat in my face, though. Seriously. Where's the Jolly Green Giant when you need him?

Anyhow, in my quest to leave the house in search of the warmth of the sun, I took a walk around town for about two hours today. I went for the first time with my new hand-me-down digital camera on an adventure that began on my street in the "arriba" part of town:
because there's a slow but definite incline to get here, and brought me all the way to the arroyo on the other end of down, la parte mas abajo:
.

I came up with a theme for taking"quiet" and "noisy" pictures to try to get myself to capture what was really interesting in each photo. Obviously, you can't hear anything by just looking at them, but you can get an idea of the sound of large construction trucks,


a man riding with a wagon attached to a mule,


the silence on a quiet street,


versus the sound of running water,


a barking dog, etc...


Anyhow, I'll see if I can download any (mission accomplished 3/11/09), and add some attachments so that the images I'm trying to evoke here will make more sense. If only I'd had these to better explain to the young kids in New Haven where I currently live! At the end of the day, and all throughout the sunnier hours, I live in Bollullos, full of the ignorance that leads to awkward staring contests, but also filled with the randomness that makes peripecias the most exciting part of any day I spend here.

Since You've Been Gone

I'm home!! Just for a few more days though until I return to the no-man's land of Bollullos. Just kidding. Well, not really. In comparison to even the smallest of U.S. cities, it does seem quite removed, but since I've been gone, I've come to appreciate the peripecias of both places. Like lunch that goes on for three hours, siesta, random party nights that never seem to end. On the other hand, knowing that all of my true blue comrades are on the other side of the Atlantic makes it that much more difficult to say goodbye again knowing I'll be missing out on the small stuff for another five months. Alas. But back to the joys of being home, I've been treated to indoor heating, sans the constant worry of turning on the califaccion, and I've not had to buy groceries. Amazing. I got to be here for Christmas, a special someone's second 30th birthday, New Year's in New York, and lots of reunions with friends who might've otherwise been further away had it not been the holiday season. Just for the record, I love all of you, and thanks for keeping me crazy. I would say sane, but we know that's not the case!

Since I've been gone, I think I've changed a bit, not sure exactly how. As one friend said, the core of us doesn't change, but our interests, and perhaps ways of doing things do get modified. I'm okay with that, as long as I come out a better person in the end.

Anyhow, jsut wanted to let my fans (all two of you, perhaps) know that I do remember that I have a blog and an obligation to keep it updated. I'll be back with more on my travels soon enough. Hasta luego.

She's Just a Small Town Girl

Living in Bollullos Par del Condado can almost make you forget that there are bigger cities in the world. But I know better. So why did coming to Madrid strike me as utterly demasiado, although riveting?

I arrived in Madrid a few days ago visiting a friend, and en route back home for the holidays. Ideally when traveling, you wanna get an early start on the day, but mine started around 2pm yesterady and today. Shameful? Perhaps, but I plan to come back. There is so much to see. From the museums: Prado, Reina Sofia, Thyssien; to the Plazas, the districts, the royal palace... it goes on and on and on and on...

It's kind of crazy too to be in a "foreign" city and realize you know a couple of people either through like a third party or just people you've known. Apparently dancing in high school and getting a masters in international relations had a lot to do with knowing people who were here. I don't really live for travel books, so I look forward to their suggestions and recommendations, albeit knowing that I'll come to my own conclusions and probably walk an unbeaten path that gets me to an interesting photo or a place even the inhabitants of the city haven't been.

In short, Madrid overwhelmed me in a way that Bollullos could not. I've come to appreciate that I will almost always run into someone I know in Bollullos. It kind of gives you the feeling of small-town stardom. But I'd missed the diversity of the big city. The luxury of not being stared at. The convenience of the metro. Interior heating... need I say more. And yet, I feel a slight nostalgia for Huelva and Andalucia. We'll see if I still feel that way after three weeks at home. Can't wait for Noche Buena, Christmas, and New Years, and at the end of it all returning to Madrid to catch what I missed on this trip from sleeping late and catching up on overdue work.

The Traveling Diaspora

I think I'm obsessed with the Diaspora, but whatever! I may not see it everyday, but when I do I feel closer than ever. Must be the proximity to The Continent.

So, here in Spain, at least in Southern Spain - that Andaluz - there's a tradition that's existed for about two hundred years of burning gamonitas every 7th day of December, the day before the Dia de la Inmaculada. According to my rough spoken Bollullo sources, the tradition started a couple hundred years ago when there was an outbreak of tuberculosis, or el peste, and the people had to burn everything that had or might have been contaminated by the enfermedad. Since then, the costumbre has continued, although with slight variations, namely the burning of gamonitas instead of bodies, clothes, etc. As they burn the long twig-like gamonitas, people sing "gamonita, ita, ita!" and raise the bundle of sticks into the air. Apparently, you're also supposed to make a wish while doing this.

I had a chance to burn not one, but at least three bundles of gamonitas last night - the first of which I burned after a performance by a Ugandan dance group at the Casa de la Cultura. Again, you can imagine my elation at seeing mi gente, and how it tripled after the show when I got to talk to three of the dancer/singers, fluent in English, who are studying at the University, Mekelele, when they're not touring with the group.

I've decided that perhaps the burning of the gamonitas came at a symbolic time. Burning signifying renewal and all. With the crisis hitting home suddenly and muy fuerte in the last couple of days, and other peripecias of Bollullos coming to a head, it seemed like a great time to throw everything que no me cae bien into the fire. And I did. I felt a big relief, although I don't think it solved everything I would've liked it to.

On some level, it was a renewal for me, and my outlook on life in Spain. I'm glad that I'm repeatedly and randomly bombarded by the diaspora, which makes me exceedingly happy every time I see it. I also know that while I grow here and make wishes on gamonitas, I have to stay more connected to the conditions at home, and not forget my sense of individual agency, which will ultimately bring me more power than gamonitas alone.

An exercise in buscando la raza

I have a friend who understands the rarity of me going to the gym. Every time I tell my her I've gone, we both get a little laugh out of it. There was a time when my friends would have been amazed at my willingness to voluntarily go the library as well, but as it turns out I've realized the utility in both institutions.

Earlier this week, I paid for a two week membership (since I'm going home in two weeks for three weeks) and then when I get back I'll resume it. Maybe I fought it off for a while, but after I squatted and heard my favorite skinny jeans rip, I decided maybe... maybe it was time to get back to basics and bajo a couple of pesos.

The first class I went to was squatting intensive, so I decided I'd keep it on the elliptical machine and then, following the instructions of one of the owners, do a little "musculacion" after finishing my forty minutes of cardio. I went yesterday as well, after a full day of regalo shopping in Sevilla. By the time I left, the hair was in a state of obscurity, so I just twisted it again and threw on a scarf. I was planning to go out later, and it was cute, not that the standards are super duper high in Bollullos night life, but I have to represent well for la raza.

Going out on a good night in Bollullos involves not actually needing any money because there are rarely cover charges, you keep running into people you know, and on one of the upsides of machismo, the men are paying. I ended up running into a bunch of people I knew, so it was a good night, plus I got to practice a lot of Spanish, although there's always a couple of people who want to practice their English, on the odd occasion of having found a native English speaker in Bollullos. Basically the night starts at one bar Amadeus or John Lennon, moves to another called Don Pina, and then after that closes moves to another one called Zulu. Several people had asked if I was going to go there, and I asked them why the club was exploiting the nombre de mi gente? I did end up going though, and good thing, because I actually found the diaspora.

On the also rare occasion of seeing la raza in Bollullos, I get very excited. And when I walked into Zulu, I saw no less than four. A record high. With the excuse of having something in common, I'd introduced myself to all of them by the end of the night, which was around 6am, and had even taken a photo - since as my mom reminded me recently, life is all about making memories. Right before my friend saca'd the foto, I had the feeling that this was a really cool moment of seeing the depth of the Diaspora, and of being able to bring people together, since the four guys ended up all meeting each other and shaking hands. It turns out one is from Colombia, another is from Brazil by way of Portugal, and two others are from Maruecos aka Morrocco. I got goosebumps just standing there thinking about it. On the one hand it's amazing, and on another it's frustrating because Spanish is only the native language of one out of five of us. Nonetheless, seeing them all together at once, I thought, maybe this is why I came to Spain?

Even if finding la raza aqui en Bollullos is not necessarily my proposito, it brought me back to whole days spent in the library researching for my thesis on mi gente in Argentina, the Afro-Argentines. As it turns out, I don't mind the library when I'm completely interested in the work I'm doing and when it has some relevance to my own life. In short, although I've only just recently joined the gym, a memorable part of my experience in Spain will be that it was an exercise in patience, in buscando la raza, and in being entirely grateful whenever I got to see them and hear their stories. It may not be such a novelty when I return home where there's as high as percentage nationwide as there are people of color in Bollullos (about 13), but I'll embrace the novelty while I can.

La Accion de Gracias

Celebrating Thanksgiving in Bollullos was a trip! One of the couples whose daughters I tutor was hosting a couple from the United States because their companies work together. Combining their enthusiasm for Thanksgiving with the fact that there are eight other Americans, and an enthusiastic young woman from Ireland, teaching here in Bollullos I asked my tutees mom if we could take over her kitchen for two nights to make Thanksgiving dinner. It turned out really well, with everyone bringing a dish, chicken substituting for turkey, wine from one of the Bollullos bodegas, and a pumpkin pie made entirely from scratch.

I got a little choked up when we went around and said what we were all thankful for, since mine involved not having to cook all of the side dishes alone, not that I mind doing it when I'm home, but it was interesting to see what other people eat for turkey day.

I insisted on a trip to the florist shop for an extra gift to the mom of the family, since it wasn;t enough that we were jsut cooking for her, and I'm glad I did. She gave me an extra strong hug when she saw them and went into girly-surprised-flattered mode.

At the end of the night, we all walked home having made some new memories, and slightly less tired than we might have been without the turkey, cranberry sauce and accompanying football game, but happy nonetheless to have spent the evening pretending we were at home. The next day, I left for Huelva to spend the weekend with friends and ended up watching a basketball game of Huelva Recreativo, which ranks kiiiind of low on the basketball totem pole, but it was entertaining nonetheless.