Musings in Granada and elsewhere

Typical American college student in Granada Spain. These are my adventures, thoughts and stories.

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Location: Cada Dia Mas Aqui que Alli, United States

I travel often.

Wednesday, May 31, 2006

Between the Bars 5/30/06

Last day with Laney. Woke up with intense feeling of sadness, with elliott smith Between the Bars playing in my head. For about twenty minutes stared off in the sand, thinking about all the places I've been. Not just countries but spats in granada. The strangest part is knowing that it is over. It can't possibly be over really, can it? Laney keeps saying that the granada chapter in her life is over, that she can't possibly ever go back. And so I'm left wondering the same about myself. Could she know herself so well to face the truth of her emotions? Coud I be fooling myself into thinking that I could handle coming back? I guess it's one of those things you don't know about utnil the right time. Perhaps its one of those things when the thought of losing something is actually more distressing than losing it.
I owe so much to Laney and Sara. So much of my journtey and my internal discovery is due to what they have given me in their presence. In a way I feel like they changed what granada would've meant for me. I could've been like the other girls in API, never pushing the limit, never wandering through the albayzin alone (because it's, like, so dangerous) sticking to what is new, western, familiar, comfortable: Tantra Bar, Granada diez, Dolce Vita etc. Now that Sara is gone, I've really begun to appreciate her presence in my granada experience. As much as I always write about my adventures with Laney, I've negelected to mention sara, her beautiful pensive presence. I ahve aa wonderful memoryu of her sitting in cafe central, writing in her journal over an empty cup of cofee. There was something so genuine in the way she looks when she sees a friend. If there is something I wish to emulate from all my encounters with different personalities I
've met on this trip, it would be her genuine look of happiness and excitement when she sees a friend. That look, welcoming sweet is what I'd like to take back to hhe states with me. It's a look that says "of course I'm so happy to see you, why wouldn't I be?" It's something that I've always noted to be missing in american culture, something that I've always wished to occur more often. I think of my conversation with Tyler, the american who owns the backpacker's hostel, who asked me if I knew exactly what it was that made me dislike being in the states so much. What didn't make me fit in. The only thing I could think of was the superficiality of the culture. When someone says "hey how are you?" and just keeps walking. I remember complaining to another american about that, who simply responded with " well isn't that just a rhetorical question anyway?" And thats exactly the problem. Since when is asking how another person feels a rhetorical question? Not to idealize the spanish, but at least they say what they mean. I was in abar with one of my friends who just turned and looke me dead in the eye and said "Eres guapa, de verdad. Eres intelegente, y simpatica. De verdad" and that was that.
Walked through Lisbon with the idea of dropping laney off at a hostel. She didn't like the city. To be honest, neither did I. Had I visited Lisbon before I had lived in granada, I probably would've dug it: very new york. But it seemed kind of lost, kind of souless. And so we drove back down to spain. Crossing the boarder into spain was like coming home. All the sudden I could understand what was on the radio, I could read the names of the towns easily, I could recognize the tiny little houses and the people that lived in them. We dropped laney off at the bus station in Sevilla. Our goodbye was short, callous, as if I would see her next week. Both of us wanted it that way. I would've lost it if it had been any different. Michael and I got back in the car and sat in silence for a moment. I put on Ojos de Brujo and cried but felt a little better. We drove past the bus station and saw laney walking inside. I leaned out the window and shouted "Ole guapa! Que guapa eres!" which I imagine probably startled the whole bus station, but i didn't care. the last image I have of her was her wearing that silly hat and her huge backpack and hiking boots, smiling and waving back at me. She's a strong woman. She will be fine. She will be missed.
And so my life alone de verdad will start so shortly, and end even more quickly. Greg comes in from Germany tomorrow. I don't know how he will get a hold of me. We will see if this works out. I want to be alone but at the same time I'm terrified. It's like now that sara and Laney are gone now, I've got to take the wheel. i've got to show people how Granada can be.

Cliffside adventures 5/28/06

Woke up cliffside, overlooking rocky beaches and a foggy purple dawn. Had set up the tent nezt to a bed of pollen, due to our lack of visual ability the night before. Had played folk gameat sunset. I amagine it will be the last folk game of my life. Drove around all day searching for our next beautful beachside. Came upon abandoned beach. After traversing accross mountains of sand dunes, I felt like a character out of a fairy tale, wondering ofver mountains of sandy desert in search of the beach. Had some realizations about myself (dilusions caused by the heat no doubt): I'm not the princess I once thought I was. I am a warrior. If my life were a fairytale, I wouldn't be the princess, I'd be the warrior because I don't need to be rescued. I am not fragile or weak. I have no desire to be that girl anymore. Swam in the sea on the abandoned beach, large eztension of sandy nothingness. Clear blue sea, white sand, covered in colorful clam shells. Sang a saeta to the sea, saeta del mar. Drove around a bit more. Drove into Sintra, the most beautiful city in Portugal (if it weren't for the tourists...)Found an abandoned palace and driving by, imagined being a crazy old poet living in this haunted estate. Drove around intil late in the night, looking for a place to sleep- propbelms with civilization: all the beaches are tightly patrolled, the campgrounds closed for the night, no hostels in sight. Stumbled upon a tiny motel in exurbia, looked like something out of psycho. either that or a bad porn. The latter became affrimed when we entered the room: complete with mirror on the cieling, a circular bed, red neon lights, cheeezy romantic musicand automatic floral scent which sprayed itself every couple of minutes. Hilarious. Awful. Too tired to care. Some day we will laugh uncontrollably about it. For tonight, however, we will cook dinner and try not to choke on the horrible plastic floral scent.

Fisherman's wife 5/27/06

Woke up on an abandoned beach at dawn, wind shaking the liner off our tent. The sun barely peaking over the jagged cliffs and rocks to our east. The stars last night were incredible, so low and clear as if you might bump your head on one of them if you were not careful. "Orion is on the southern horizon" Said michale. I don't know whwat that means, but the warrior is facing south. Significant? Ran into a nomatic fishing family to ask for directions. Portoguese but spoke french too. Lucky for usm Michael can speak a ton of languages. They looked so peafceful and happy, eating a bucket of snails and fish that they no doubt caught earlier that day. I wonder if I would be able to do that. To marry a nomadic fisherman and travel up and down the atlantic coast with our family. What a simpler lifestyle that would be , but imagine all the things we would see, all the clifs and sunsets and dawns underlined by frozen blue water. No doubt I'd miss the lighstyle of american consumerism. Nice clothes, tv, restaurants, but perhaps by losing them I could gain something more. Then again, maybe not.

El Mar, El desierto. 5/26/06

Fled to el mar. Granada is a desert which cries while it sings. To soothe the soul is to seek light and water. And so we did. We rented a car and headed west. And now I'm sitting here on what is literally the most western point of europe. The atlantic is a huge vertical drop below me, my feet inches away from the ledge. In ancient times it was forbidden for humans to sit here after sunset. they believed that it was territory of the gods. Romans believed that wne the sun set over the water, the fire would cause the water to boil. Until Cristopher Columbus's trip, this was considered the end of the world. Sitting here, watching the sunset, I can see why they believed it. It was not ignorance nor stupidity. It is quite convinsing. If you look hard enough you can see the shadow of the setting sun behind the water. There are no signs of life farther than the horizon. Ava believes there are magnetic energies in blessed zones of the world. Laney believes in an omnipotent god. All I know for sure is this place had to look like this. Not by Gods will nor by the magnetic energy but rather because if this land did not look like this, with sudden cliffs and flaming sunset, the world wouldn't be the same. This spot I am sitting has been the same for so many years. It had to look like this then and it must look like this now.

Parade 5/25/06

The dates on this thing are a little screwy. Stay with me. Laney Packed her house up. And I needed to get out. After a long morning walking the city on my own, i spot Mostafa putting chairs outside his restaurant. I sit down with Kim and Stephane (my new housemate) and we watch two of myu friends play guitar on the sidwalk. Ran into some poeople who had already disappeared grom granada in my mind: Gavino, the gypsy jazz guitarrist from Belliville Trio, and Greg, the american Flamenco Guitarrist and Alvalro, Laney's portugese neighbor. Said goodbye to all of them otravez, knowing the chabnce of seeing them on the street was slim. Said goodbye to Matt surely for what will be the last time (goes back to US and then back up to northern spain to do the Camino). It was more sad than I expected it to be. Went up to Laney's and helped her finish packing. The house seems so empty without Sara, and I know Laney was really feeling it. Stayed with her until 8pm and then went down to Paprika to eat dinner and hang out with some friends. Stephane was working and proceeded to give food and drink for little charge. Ava and Ana had a show on the same street, but when I went there I was greeted by the bar owner who claimed the show was cancelled, even though there was a large crowd and Ana and Ava were all ready to play. Proceeded to walk the entire city with a train of hippies/beatnik/street musicians. Somehow I was designated cherry girl and ended up holding/distributing a bunch of cherries to the insane group. Within the group there were bums from the UK, musicians from Denmark and a very loud but charming group of israeli teenagers. There was also a couple from the US, in their mid fifties, who, despite my constant reassurances, kept complaining about how old they were. At one point I turned o them and said "Aw, it doesn't really matter, age is only a number" and they stared at me as if it had never occured to them before. they were the coolest parents I think I could've ever met. The woman told me about how she studied abroad in madrid some 30 years ago, and how she never wanted to leave but did anyway, married at 25 had children and woke up one day in a routine she deosn't want or enjoy (one of the israeli teens asked her what do you do for fun" and all she could say was "I don't know, I get up I go running, take care of the kids, make dinner and go to bed") She said she felt there was a reason she had met all of us (all of us being the 40 some hippies) and there was no coincidence that she was there talking to me at that point in her life. And as much as I don't believe in destiy and all that, I'm thinking that maybe there was really a reason for su meeting but not for her. More for me. I know now I can't end up like her, regretting never returning, sucked into the void of suburban comfortable lifestyle. Looking at her was like looking into my futre, what it could be if I don't follow what my spirit needs but rather follow my security.

Thursday, May 25, 2006

Flying solo

This is the strangest sensation i've ever experienced. Somewhere between really excited, really content, really lonely and really scared. Rachel (my travel buddy) left last night, Julie (my roommate) left this morning. My host family left this afternoon. I'm alone in Granada. And for the first time, I think ever in my life, I am bombarded with the feeling of complete independence. And it's very frightening. I woke up this morning, after Julie left and my first thought was "That's it, I'm all alone now" Of course I'm not really alone. I've got Sara until next tuesday, and Laney until the 31st. I had my first experience apartment hunting, which was terrifying and wonderful: Two of my fellow americans and I decided to rent a room in an apartment together. We went to the apartment, talked to the flatmates, and everything was peachy. Until later that night- when the flatmates reconviened and decided that they didn't want us to live there. Mind you, this happened yesterday, and today is my last day living in the apartment with my hostmom. So of course I start freaking out. I go from hostel to hostel, asking for prices and for work, hoping that if they hire me, i'll be able to get a discount on the price of living there for 20 days. No luck. Finally, I run into an acquaintance/ a friend of a friend on the street, explain to him why I looked so upset, and he proceeds to tell me that there is an empty space in the flat where he is living. Apparently the apartment is owned by an older spanish man, who has 4 empty rooms for the summer and is subleting them out for 8 euro a night. he shows me the apartment, which is fully furnished, has hot water and a fully functional kitchen and bathroom. It seems wonderful. And so after a lot of thought, I think I'm going to take it. The owner seems pretty nice, although his thick accent is kind of hard for me to understand sometimes. I met one other person living there, a young man from Morrocco, who seems really friendly and nice, so I'm not too worried. The only thing about the apartment that has me kind of nervous is the fact that I will be living with 4 men. But my room has a lock on it, and I think everyone pretty much keeps to themselves. I move in tomorrow.

This morning I walked all over granada by myself. I just really needed to get out of the house because it is dark and empty. I walked through the albayzin at 9am, and it was so beautiful. No one was out on the streets and everything was still quiet. I walked across town from the albayzin to parque de garcia lorca and sat on a bench and read a book for 2 hours. An old man walked past me and we had a strange conversation:
"Hola" (not looking at me)
"Hola"
"Do you like to read?"
"well, yes..."
"I don't like to read at all" (sitting on the bench across from me)
"Oh. Why not?"
(something along the lines of): I like reading letters. Just not books. I don't like books at all. I like letters, like the kind you get in the mail, not like those email letters you kids have all the time (mumbling incoherently about email and kids or something)"
"Oh" (I continue reading)
"So what do you study?"
"Here in Granada or in my country?"
"Where is your country?"
"The United states"
"Ha! You kids from the US just love Spain don't you. I don't understand it at all (mumbling incoherently about kids from the US studying in spain or something) You like granada?"
"Yeah, I like it a lot"
(awkward silence)
"What time is it"
(he looks at his watch) "12:30"
"Oh, well I have to go"
"You're going?"
"Yeah, I have to meet some friends"
"ok"
"It was nice meeting you"
"Yeah. Bye"

I don't know if he was crazy, weird or just lonely and socially awkward. But I really like how people here are a lot more friendly than in the US. I can't imagine sitting in a bar or in a park in pennsylvania or new york city and just striking up a conversation with someone, just because they look interesting.The idea of it seems really scary to me for some reason, although I do it all the time here, and when I do it here it is in spanish. You'd think that speaking to someone in english would be a lot less intimidating, but there's something about the culture, at least east coast culture that makes me afraid to talk to people. I'm sure I'll forget about the culture difference when I'm there, maybe it'll just slip out and I'll surprise someone. Maybe I could make a friend...or they could just tell me to fuck off.

I had an indepth conversation with my flamenco teacher last night (seems like we talk more than dance). She is such a wonderful woman, very emotional and sensitive, but really caring. She was upset at Laney and me because we cancelled our lunch date (I cancelled because it was Julie and my last lunch together, Laney cancelled because she was buying fireworks from some gitanos in some pueblo....?!)She just poured her heart out to us, and started crying. She's really upset I think because her life is this dance studio, and most everyone she meets is forgien. And because she is so friendly and caring, she becomes friends with all her students. But then they just leave her after a semester or two. And so she feels she has no stability or constant friends in her life. It's really quite sad. But while she was telling me about how she hates saying goodbye, about how she hates the unstable lifestyle with people constantly coming and going, all I could think was "that's life" And was really shocked at my indifference and insensitivity. I expected myself to start crying when she started crying, but that just didn't happen. I felt bad for her, but I didn't feel bad. It kind of bothered me, and I've been thinking about it a lot. Ana suffers because she expects things in her life to be constant and permanent. But I've come to understand that nothing is really permenant. Even friends that you've had forever and ever change, and it's only if you allow them to change that the relationship still exists, and even then, the relationship is different. It's part of life to lose things, it's part of life to experience loss. Life is all about the experiences you have with those people. And even though it hurts to let them go, you know that the pain is a result of something beautiful, that the pain has its essence in something wonderful and special. And therefore the pain, though it hurts, is something beautiful and affirming in itself. And besides, you never really lose people. People and experiences come and go, and if you do it right, they leave little marks on your life and your personality. Nothing is extraordinary and meaningful in essence, and therefore everything is extraordinary and meaningful. I wanted to tell her that, I wanted to tell her not to cry and not to be sad. Life is to be lived with open palms, not clenched fists. I wanted to tell her, but I don't think she was ready to hear that. So I'm going to lunch with her on monday. And I swear I won't cancel this time.

The concept of "going home" seems so strange to me. Where is home? I don't even know anymore. Julie pulled out a 20 dollar bill yesterday and i felt a wave of nostalgia. Last night while I was lying in bed, I pictured myself walking through the Philadelphia airport and to my surprise I didn't feel disgust or sadness; I felt secure. Is it the same feeling of security I get when I am on the bus coming back into the city of Granada after a trip elsewhere? Maybe, but it's more strong. I feel like I belong here, I feel comfortable here. But when I think about things like the Philadelphia airport, my dorm room, my house, I just get confused. I can see myself living here for the rest of my life. I can see myself opening a practice here and working with study abroad students who have probelms adjusting. I can see myself living in a house in the albayzin, or perhaps an apartment in realejo. But I also see myself going to Grad school in the states, becoming a professor or joining a practice there. I can see myself living in Boston, New York City, Philadelphia, or somewhere in the vast unknown called the West coast. How can I belong in two so completely different places? How can I see myself living two completely different lives? Is it possible that my soul could thrive anywhere? And if so, where is home really?

If someone were to ask me what I see myself doing in the next five years, I wouldn't be able to answer. For the first time in my life, I have absolutely no idea what I'm going to be doing. It's like someone opened the flood gates. There is so much possibility in the world. How can I possibly choose? How can I possibly say how I'm going to feel, who I'm going to meet and where I'm going to be in the next five years? I don't even know what I'm doing tomorrow.

So my life in granada as a student has come to a close. All day yesterday, I felt like some kind of impostor, like I should be going home, as if by my staying here, I would curse Granada, and my experience would lose some of it's magic. But this morning after I walked around a bit, I realized that my experience here is what I make it. It's just a city and I'm just a traveler, and I'm surrounded by citizens and other travelers. So I'm really feeling some closure. It's strange, I was expecting some sort of desperation, some kind of urge to run all over the place and hug and kiss random buildings and people just for being part of granada, or rather my experience of granada. Sometimes I feel that way but mostly it's just a feeling of peace, with occasional uncertainty. Is this how real life feels? It must be.
I don't know when I started thinking in riddles. These next three weeks will be interesting, to say the least.

Wednesday, May 17, 2006

mphhh

I'm sitting in the API office, waiting for them to come help me print out my paper. Waiting waiting waiting. I've been waiting for about an hour. Might kill someone. There is a girl flipping out about some facebook picture. I sound really obnoxious right now, but man I really just hate the way english sounds. Ok enough:
My exam this morning was for my civilization and culture class. The class is completely made up on the spot, and I could probably teach it. If the professor wasn't so amusing, i would've dropped it. Anyway, he gave us our partial exams back today (the day of the final exam). The exams are really strange. Basically he just photocopies an article from the newspaper (last time it was how the youth of today have no direction/future etc) and we have to write for 1.5 hours about it. So this time it was an article about the coke usage of adolescents under the age of 18. So i'm sitting there thinking, well great, we haven't talked about this in class, the only things I know about drugs are from my neuroscience class and my adult psychopathology class. So naturally I wrote about them. basically I gave all the social reasons I know of that would cause someone who, despite knowing the consecuences of using drugs, still uses them (ie: social pressure, low self image, the desire to be accepted, poor family environement, depression, poor education, poverty, the media etc) It was fun to write in spanish (sarcastic) because we weren't allowed to use dictionaries, so I have no idea if it made any sense. But basically my main point was that the drastic drug usage in my generation is not a result of us being "bad apples' but rather a result of societial pressures/actions which cause us to desire the effects/image of drug usage. I talked about how I know that when I talk to my friends about all the stuff I've learned about the effects of coke (the fact that you're chance of having a heart attack is nearly tripled in the first 10 minutes of being on coke) and ecstacy (the fact that habitual usage will lead to depression and, to put it simply, it eats holes in your brain) and the fact that I'm telling them (as a peer as opposed to an authority figure) helps them resist the social pressure to use/continue using these drugs. But sadly most of my friends are from my college. And that means we are from a selected demographic (specifically rich suburbanites) and that i really don't know about how much someone like me could affect other demographics.
Moving on from drugs:
We were also supposed to hand in a paper about a movie today. I wrote it, I had one of my friends edit it, but unfortunately by the time it was finished, I was unable to print it. Basically I wrote about how the movie shows that women immediately after the spanish civil war had to deal with surviving in a hostle environment (hostle against both their sex and hostle because of the political conflict). Surviving this hostility caused the women to bond in a way that american women have not: they could see that despite their politiical differences, women were the ones who had to absorb most of the shock of war: they had to figure out how to continue to survive in the household.
This is the paper that I was waiting to print. I'm going now to hand it in (!!) ahh! more later.