Reconnecting

Reconnecting... kind of a charged word when I think about it, but lately its meant recharging, starting fresh, emotionally, spiritually. Preparing myself for the long haul, whatever awaits me, whatever it is I decide to make of whatever it is that I have in front of me. Kind of a vague way of saying I'm trying to get it together. Which, granted, is possibly vaguer than the latter. But alas. It's also been a literal instruction for me to keep up with loved ones while overseas, and to make sure I stay focused on my original goals while I'm here. For all of its, umm, wonder, Spain is lacking something. I guess that could obviously be said about many parts of the world, and maybe even the place I end up getting to. Maybe I haven't given it a chance to give me what I need because I have a very short term sense of my time here. I'm not really sure. I try to aprovechar of the cultural variety that abounds, the festivities that are becoming more frequent now that good weather has arrived, and opportunities to travel, but lately something is different, perhaps inside of me. Yet another reason for the recharge/reconnecting.

Along the lines of reconnecting, I have to make a quick plug for Skype. A virtual God send in the sense that no one I know has actually tried to call me yet on the phone I own here using a calling card or some other source. Without Skype, I might be stuck with just email. On the bright side, I'd also probably send a lot more letters (I have yet to write one with the stationary I brought from home). Yet, for all of its exito, Skype still has some issues to work out. Like calling cell phones halfway across the world and two oceans. I mean, I don't see what the big deal is! It's just Spain to Hawaii. Vale. Maybe I'm asking for too much. Still, despite the morse code signals I felt like I was exchanging over a walkie talkie tonight, it was good to reconnect. Love you k-beastie, the new video bar I'm putting up is for you, well and me too, you know it's one of my all time favorites, and I heard it because of you:)

Here's to remixed songs, reconnecting with all that is necessary, having revelations about the old stuff, and making new memories:
"Somewhere over the Rainbow" by Israel Kamakawiwo'ole.
(http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4YOjEFJXPr4)
Enjoy.

Huelva, que fea

Despite the fact that so many Spanish natives call Huelva an ugly city, I find myself there a lot. Turns out, the people aren't that bad, and neither is the shopping. I tried to delve into the world of Spanish shopping, but I think my town lacks the quality I'm looking for. In other words, although I only paid 5 euro for a stretchy, fleecy lined turtleneck, that doesn't mean I should have had to sew the sleeves back together three times. I mean really...? Anyway, I like Zara, and some others.

In addition to clothes, which aren't all bad here, I've also had a craving for American foods. It seems ridiculous. I never thought I'd be that American who was looking for the nearest McDonald's, but when one slid into view on the way to Huelva yesterday afternoon, I couldn't help but think, it'd be nice to get a fish filet sandwich, some fries, or even a McFlurry. I mean, honestly, if I hadn't seen it, I probably wouldn't have gotten the craving. I blame it on the busdriver and the route he took to get to the bus station. Now all of a sudden, not only do I want McDonald's but also thin crust pizza, Oreos, Vienna Fingers, Vanilla wafers, ice cream sandwiches, smores, marshmallows, lasagna, and a whole lot of other stuff that just tastes better at home. Not that I don't like the food here, but I guess when I think of food I crave, it's not necessarily of the homemade variety - most of that I could at least attempt to do here, we do after all have Mercadona for a supermarket.

Anyhow, back to Huelva. The city provides quality entertainment and a break from Bollullos, which although I've grown attached to it, I still like to leave every once in a while. The latest scare, however, regarding the city and the province is that I shouldn't be drinking the water because there's a super high incidence of cancer specifically in this province, which is directly correlated to the amount of industrial plants. Apparently traces of something related to cancer have been found in the water, so... so much for el grifo. I'd go out and buy a huge jug from Mercadona right now if the store were still open, but it closes at 9:15pm. Ostia.

In the meantime, I'll try not to think about how sick the water makes people, and focus instead on Bollullos, and Andalucia's, love of fiestas. currently, we're in Carnaval season, which has permeated the entire province. Next weekend, I plan to go to Cadiz, apparently the thrid or fourth largest celebration of Carnaval outside of Brazil, so I'm excited. If only I could think of a costume...

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.