Super Bowl

This year's Super Bowl was different than my previous ones.  For one, kickoff began at 12:30 am, making my 9:00 am class later that day more dreaded than ever.  Also, I had to head to an Irish bar in order to see the game.  The bar was a change from the family-event atmosphere I'm used to back home; the patrons were all smashed or at least trying their best to be, and all the yelling was done in Spanish.  I wasn't sure that everyone cheering knew what they were rooting for, but it didn't stop them from sharing some of the passion they have for soccer with our own football.

Although there was considerably less crying.

As the night went on, the Spaniards' drunk yelling increased, and the game seemed to gain more and more importance.  It became a matter of pride above all else.  Eventually the 49ers lost, as was expected, and all was right in the world.  Until I had to go to class three hours later, without sleep.  It's at times like those when the six hour time difference gets to you.

Residence Living

This semester I elected to switch from a host family to a residence.  As much as I love Nancy, I felt like I needed a change of location.

What an adorable woman.

When I got out of the airport, I did my best to find the new residence.  This was made harder by having to navigate two bags through the streets of Madrid, as I was able to have an extra bag for free, since I was moved up to business class.  This second bag, filled entirely with ramen noodles and Little Debbies, proved to be a hassle when moving through the impatient crowds.

My Spanish was rusty, having just gotten back to Spain, so I managed to have an incredibly awkward conversation with the doorman of my new residence.  This is the same man that I accidentally dumped a bag's worth of empty sunflower seeds on from the balcony a few days ago.  I now try to avoid him at every cost.

The room that I got assigned is a double but has sliding doors that divide the two halves of the large room.  However, these doors are functionally just windows as they're made almost entirely of glass, making their purpose completely unknown to me.  It's nice living with more people this semester, because you can always find something to do.

Overall, it's a different experience from my time with a host mom.  I live closer to the center of the city and go out and walk around my neighborhood more often.  I do miss Nancy and her delicious cooking, but I'm excited for the semester ahead.

Sevilla

While Madrid is much warmer than back home, I should have been smart enough not to leave my jacket at my host mom's house.  I suffered through the first few days in Madrid with little more than my self-pity and churros to keep me warm.  Luckily, this semester's orientation trip was to Sevilla, in the Andalusia region.  Even though still in Spain, it was noticeably warmer.  I have been there once before, but not with a group so big.

The orientation trip had more people this semester, a large number of them from Chapman.  It was strange recognizing so few people, when I had come to know almost everyone from last semester.  Almost all the freshmen came back , and although it was different than Salamanca, it was equally as fun.

The first day we had a short tour of the area around our hotel, which took us through the maze of apartments that made up the Jewish district and to the cathedral.

Photo by Sean Laffey

The Catedral de Sevilla is one of the largest in the world and overlooks Seville.  Aside from the cathedral itself, there is a tower that allows you to see across the entire city from the top.  The 30 something floor trip to the top was a reminder of how out of shape I've become, but the walk was well worth the view from the top.

Photo by Taylor Kunselman


The second day began with a trip to Las Grutas, caves with stalagmites and other formations.  We were not allowed to take pictures, so naturally, plenty of photos were taken.

    

Photo by a loose-cannon that doesn't play by the rules

Somehow, Spain chose the one weekend that we were supposed to hike to rain, so the rest of the day was mainly spent eating.  We went to a farm that specializes in jamon serrano, the disgusting-looking, yet delicious specialty of Spain.  I learned that this delicacy is created by salting pig legs and letting layers of mold grow, until it hardens and is ready to serve years later.

yum.

The last full day was spent focusing on flamenco dancing.  As amazing as I am at dancing, as anyone who is embarrassed in public with me can attest to, I was more into watching the shows than getting involved in them.

Everyone was too focused on how attractive the dancers were to take pictures, but here are some flamingos instead

At Cortijo Pino Montano, where the dancing took place, we saw a humane bullfight.  There was also horse dancing, but prancing around on a horse is often overshadowed by badasses fighting bulls.

Photo by Taylor Kunselman

Pictured: something not nearly as cool as bullfighting

My favorite place I visited when I was in Sevilla last time was Los Reales Alcazares.  I was glad to know my memory served me right, and that the palace was as elaborate as I remembered.

Photo by Taylor Kunselman

The palace was originally a Moorish fort, and features intricately decorated walls and an immense garden.

Photo by Taylor Kunselman

It was great to be back in Sevilla and I hope that in the future I can make my way to this city once more.

Madrid: Round 2

After being home for three weeks I began to miss being back in Madrid.  As much as I love my university hometown of Durham, NH, there's very little to do when the students aren't around and I was anxious to get back to Spain.

My trip began with my seat being upgraded to business class, where I was accompanied by serious businessmen, more legroom than I knew what to do with, and an open bar.  The flight went by too fast, and I was brought back to reality when my connecting flight involved a cramped seat next to a man with a serious sinus issue.  However, I knew that the 11 hour trip was worthwhile when I approached Madrid and saw the city stand out in the distance.

It feels great to be back and I'm looking for another semester in beautiful Madrid.  I just hope one year is enough time for me to experience the city.

Finals

The last two weeks have been dedicated to finals.  I've managed to plan my time out pretty well, except for right now, when I'm only just finishing up my blog post.

The last few weeks have gone by incredibly fast, with me saying "I can do that next week" at the end of each.  I can no longer do this as there are no more weeks left in the semester, so it's crunch time.  I'm trying to weigh my time out evenly between studying, talking with my host mom and seeing what else Madrid has to offer.  Unfortunately, most of my time has actually gone to watching cat videos on YouTube.

(Here's a good one if you're interested)

Luckily, my last two finals are tomorrow, and then I'll be done with the semester.  I'm incredibly excited to go back home, but I know I'm going to miss Spain after my three weeks there are done.  I'm lucky to be coming back for another semester, because there is no way I'd be able to do all the things I want to in only three and a half months.

Giving Thanks

Perhaps what I was most thankful for on Thanksgiving was the fact that it was not my Spanish Halloween.  I avoided writing about it earlier because it was still too unreal/scarring in my mind.  But since Christmas preparation has already started in the States, I thought in the spirit of giving, I would share the beginning of my Halloween night in Madrid.

It all began with a last minute Halloween celebration.  My host mom had fallen ill in the week leading up to her annual Halloween party, and needed to cancel the event.  I assumed that I would no longer be doing anything for the holiday; as frequently happens, I was wrong.  I had a party to go to, but only 20 minutes to prepare a costume.  My roommate and I had a quick brainstorming session and came up with a brilliant, simple idea: a priest.  All i needed was a black shirt, black pants, and a white piece of paper in the collar  The "brilliant" idea of mine turned out to be an example of how cultural differences can make one acceptable costume in one country a poor decision in another.

And others are terrible no matter where you are

Not 2 minutes into my walk toward the party, I saw a rather large man walking a German Shepherd in my direction.  He was a caricature of a man you did not want to mess with: he had close shaven hair, tribal tattoos and his legs were as wide around as my torso.  I thought nothing of it when he gave me a questioning look but when he stopped, I knew that this behemoth was about to speak with me.

He looked like Mariusz Pudzianowski, but with more shirt

"Eres un sacerdote? (are you a priest?)" As he spoke my heart dropped to my stomach.  I managed to squeak out an unconvincing "...Si?" and surprising to approximately no one ever, he did not believe me.  It must have been the large polo symbol on my shirt, or the fact that most priests don't carry around a box of wine with them, but he was not impressed with my priest impression.

He gave a stern "No" and then proceeded to rip the white collar out of my shirt, threw it in the trash and left me with the most disapproving look I have ever received in my life before he moved on.  I silently thanked God that I had chosen to wear my glasses to top off the priest look, otherwise there is no doubt in my mind that I would have received a black eye that would have made a boxer costume a more convincing choice for the party.  Instead, I chose to wear my perfected frightened tourist costume, out of fear of insulting anyone else.   

Thanksgiving

I was rather disappointed this year, knowing that I would not be able to spend Thanksgiving at home.  Every year my grandma makes a fantastic Italian Thanksgiving with capeletti soup, chicken marsala and all the typical Thanksgiving food.  Obviously, the holiday is not celebrated here, so we have to bring our American customs to Spain.  Rather than celebrate my Thanksgiving alone in a Burger King with only a mountain of Whoppers and my self-pity to keep me company, I was lucky enough that my friends' host mom invited me to her own "Spanish Thanksgiving".

I was a little worried, as my friends have tried to have me over their house in the past, but with no luck.  Their host mom has a distinct distrust in men, meaning I had to try especially hard to win her affection.  I accepted this challenge, but not without some apprehension.  With a nice bottle of wine in-hand as a peace offering, I made my way to my friends' house, on a mission.  The elevator in the apartment felt uncomfortably similar to a jail cell, but when I reached her floor, I was stuck; there was no going back.

Thankfully, I had one trick up my sleeve that was foolproof.  The one skill that has never failed me, and has gotten me through many situations, is older women's unconditional love for me.  Somehow, women between the ages of 60 and 110 are always susceptible to my charms.  I knew it was time to make good use of my ability.

The señora was actually very kind and (perhaps most importantly,) an amazing cook.  Taking nothing away from my grandma, I had perhaps the best turkey in my life that night.  I was almost in tears with every bite, but full-on sobbed at the sight of the apple pie for dessert.  It was a memorable night for certain- it's not every year that I could have a Spanish Thanksgiving.