Vivir Mi Sueño

Buenos dias. *Throughout these entries, I know I’m missing Spanish characters and accents. I’m just too lazy to insert each one.*

During our last day in Madrid (Thursday), we packed up and left our suitcases in the lobby. Then we met Juan, and he took all of us to the Reina de Sofia, an art museum with many modern Spanish works. Saira, Bethany, and I walked around together and saw many paintings by Picasso, Dali, and Capa. My favorite was Picasso’s masterpiece, Guernica. Once again, prints don’t do this painting justice.

After a couple of hours in the museum, the three of us went with David to a local market and bought some wine, bread, cheese, and jamon (ham—there’s a lot of that here in Spain). And of course I would pick out the most expensive cheese; it wasn’t labeled. It was more expensive than the wine. Then we walked about fifteen minutes to a park in the middle of the city and had a little picnic.

Around 4:00 we walked back to the hotel to meet everyone else, and then we all took taxis to the train station. We took about an hour and half train ride to Cordoba (about two hours south). This was probably my favorite city in Spain. Like Toledo, it had the Christian, Muslim, and Jewish influence. But here there was a large (and rather famous) mosque called La Mezquita (“The Mosque”). During the Crusades, however, the Christians took over and constructed a cathedral in the middle of La Mezquita. But the architects of that time were Arabic, so even the Catholic buildings resemble the Muslim edifices.

Ok, back to the first night in Cordoba…Juan took all eight of us to dinner, and I decided to try el Rabo del Toro (literally, “the Tail of the Bull”). It was a stew, but the meat was still on the bone. So I had actually had vertebrae in my food. The meat was very tender, but also very fatty. It didn’t agree with my stomach very well. Afterwards a few of us walked around and enjoyed the atmosphere and weather. (It was a lot warmer than in Madrid.) On the twenty-minute walk back to the hotel, we crossed the Roman bridge and strolled along the river. The view of the Old City was picturesque.

The next day Juan took us on a tour through La Mezquita. (I hope to post pictures soon because I’ve never seen anything like it.) Like I said, we just marveled at the architecture. Afterwards, Saira and I decided to explore the rest of the city. After getting lost through the windy roads at least five times, we finally found our first destination: Cordoba’s very small modern art museum. It was only E 1.50, but the man basically told us to lie and say we were citizens of Spain, so admission was free. We saw many paintings by the local, Torres. The museum only took about 40 minutes, so then we walked through the new part of the city and found the Roman ruins. There we had ice cream and then continued our walk through a garden. It was actually more like walk along Long Beach but without the ocean. There were a lot of huge palm trees and runners. We finally made our way back to the Juderia (the Jewish quarters of the city) and sat down for lunch. This was an experience.

So in Spanish class, they never taught us the names of all of the internal organs. When Saira asked him to explain “riñones,” he simply said, “Lamb.” So I decided to order the riñones. He brought this dish out, and it looked like chopped meat stewed in a red sherry sauce. When I took the first bite, I thought that maybe the meat just wasn’t very good. But after the second and third bite, I realized that I wasn’t eating meat. It turns out that “riñones” means kidneys. Now I’m not a picky person. I like to try new foods. And if the riñones were actually good, I think I could have gotten over the fact that they were kidneys. But these were not good. I didn’t want to be rude, so I hollowed out my half of my bread loaf and then filled it with the kidneys so I looked like I had eaten most of my meal. It was Saira’s idea, and it was a good one. It worked. So if you’re ever in a Spanish speaking country, and you see the word “riñones” on the menu, I would advise skimming right over it.

After the riñones incident, I had to have coffee to get the urinary organ taste out of my mouth. So we went to a little café right next to La Mezquita. Afterwards, we went through a little walkway with orange trees along the river and met everyone at the hotel. We took more taxis to the station and caught a train to Madrid.

On the three-hour trip, I sat next to a Spanish woman who was in her early thirties. For the first hour we just kind of sat in silence. But then her phone rang, and her ring tone was to the tune to one of my favorite TV shows. I commented on it, and for the next two hours Loreto and I had a (slow-paced) conversation all in Spanish. We talked about my broken Spanish and her broken English, the differences between the languages, and our families. She explained words specific to the Andalucian (the province we’re in) dialect. Her explanations turned out to be very useful later. And I had also achieved one of my goals, which was to hold a conversation with a Spaniard.

When we arrived to the train station to Cadiz, our host mother, Paqui, and her husband (we don’t know his name…to us he’s just Papa) were there to greet us. Saira, who is living the in single room in the same house, Bethany, and I loaded our oversized suitcases into their small, European car. With a futbol game blaring through the radio, Paqui and Papa pointed out the monumental structures of Cadiz (in Spanish…they don’t speak English). After flying down the narrow “streets” (more like alleys), we parked in front of their building and dragged our luggage up four flight of stairs.

Their apartment is on the top floor of the building, and it is much more spacious than I was expecting. There are four bedrooms (Saira’s is connected to ours) and one bathroom. They have a nice sized patio (where I’m sitting right now), and a small kitchen with a washing machine underneath the counter.

We unloaded our bags, took showers (we only get two minutes of warm water then the rest is cold), and sat down for a late dinner. Paqui had made a delicious soup with Garbanzo beans, ham, chicken, and alphabet noodles. She also a rice with corn, peas, and shrimp. It was just the three of us eating while Papa sat in his room (we really don’t see much of him) and Paqui ran around taking care of the house.

Paqui is exactly the way I imagined her to be. She’s about 5’1” but she has a strong personality to make up for her lacking inches. When she greeted us at the station, she was wearing a bright red dress with Versacci glasses and gold high heels. She is 60, but you should see her fly up those four flights of steps. She’s like a grandmother figure to us. She even pinched my cheeks a lot and held my hand as we walked. She’s very straightforward and open; she’ll definitely tell you if you’re doing something wrong. Like I said, she doesn’t speak any English, but among the three of us, we can figure out what she is saying. And this can be very difficult because she talks a mile a minute. But she loves to joke and laugh, so most times we just smile and laugh with her even though we have no idea what she’s saying.

After dinner (around 11:30), she took us around the Cadiz with its crowded streets despite the late hours. She stopped and talked to three separate groups of people (she’s quite the social butterfly) and then treated us to ice cream. She really wanted to try her ice cream, so she just stuck her cone in our faces, and we got a true taste of Cadiz. We headed back, and then hit the hay.

I’ll have to admit that I expected to experience culture shock, but not like this. Cadiz during the weekend, unfortunately, reminds me of High Street on a Saturday night. But it’s ten times bigger and crazier. If we the University of Cadiz were in the States, it would have WVU beat as far as party rankings are concerned. However, it’s still family friendly here. When we were walking around with our ice cream, we saw a group of drunk and belligerent men lingering in the street, but as soon as we turned the corner, right across the street we saw a plaza full of families and very young children playing futbol. And the college kids here stay out until 6 or 7am. It’s going to take me a while to adjust to the noise at night (surprise!).

But today was absolutely gorgeous, and all traces of partying were gone. The streets were clean (expect for the products of dogs…there’s not much grass here) and quiet. We met the rest of the group and other API director, Carmen. She took us around Cadiz (literally…we walked around the isthmus) and to the market of Cadiz where they sell fresh fruits, vegetables, and fish. She also took us to a tower, which overlooks the entire city, which is surrounded by the Atlantic and Bay of Cadiz. Afterwards, Bethany, Saira, and I went to the smaller beach with the locals. It’s not a nude beach, but apparently going topless isn’t illegal. Yet another experience.

The water is clear, and the shore is shaped like a crescent moon. (Cadiz is “la cuidad que sonrie” or “the city that smiles.”) On both tips of the shore are two forts built centuries ago. I don’t really know the history behind them because we’ve yet to visit. There were numerous row boats floating on the right side of the bay, and to the left kids were splashing and playing in the water. On the shore, there were many families and friends just enjoying a typical Saturday afternoon on the beach. In fact, there were quite a few large, extended families enjoying the day together. A few Spanish students sat next to us and played their drums and sang. We stayed for maybe four hours. (We need to buy an umbrella. I have two strange tan/burn lines on my stomach.)

After the beach, we walked back to the house (it only took fifteen minutes), and Paqui had another delicious meal ready for us. Right now I’m sitting on the patio listening to kids across the street sing along to “Humps.” I love it here in Cadiz.