hanging with the British in Barcelona...

Even after all the trouble I had to go through to get a train ticket to and from Barcelona, it still exceeded my expectations—for the following reasons:

1.     I reunited with my best friend from 4^th-6^th grade, Laura. She’s the kind of friend that I only see once a year or once every two years. But she’s also the kind of friend that we pick up where we left off as if nothing has changed—including our maturity. (just kidding). But really, this was our best reunion to date! (Usually they include getting dinner at Hideaway or Goldie’s somewhere in Oklahoma.)

2.     One (of many) bonuses of my Barcelona reunion with Laura is that I got to see her husband (they just got married 6 months ago) again. I had met him before, but this was the first time I spent a significant amount of time with him. He’s British, a ginger, and pretty hilarious. It was cool to see them interact, because I got to see first-hand that Laura ended up with a really sweet, loving husband. She deserves it.

3.     Ali (Laura’s husband)’s parents and brother were there, also! So I got to meet her in-laws (who are, of course, also English). They were a fun, easy-going group to hang out with, not to mention their generosity and willingness to welcome me into their “family” for the weekend. I was afraid I would feel like an intruder on a family vacation, but they received me as one of their own. (Unfortunately, I was unable to pick up a legitimate British accent over such a short period of time… I still talk like an Oklahoman...) So it was also great to see that one of my childhood best friends has not only a great husband but in-laws as well!

4.     The hostel we stayed in (Laura and Ali had one room, I had my own; his family was staying in a nearby hotel) was small, but there were 3 advantages that made it even better than my familiar “home” in Alcalá. 1.) The bed was a full, not a twin.  2.) The bed had a body pillow that I enjoyed snuggling with. 3.) The room had a CEILING FAN!! It was the best 2 nights of sleep I’ve had in Spain.

5.     I got to see some beautiful, some historic sties! Although I didn’t see nearly everything that Barcelona has to offer, I did see the Barcelona football (soccer, that is, in the U.S.) stadium—from the outside, and the gift shop; it cost 19 Euro to get the official tour; 2 of Gaudí’s most famous structures: “Sagrada Familia” and “Casa Batlló”; AND of course I got to go to the beach!

6.     Saturday night for dinner we also ate some delicious paella! (which I tried in Valencia and ate in Cuenca as well, but this time I got to try 3 different flavors. One of them being “Fideuá”, which is made with little noodles instead of rice!) All of them were soooo good! (And Laura’s in-laws let me take care of the ordering that night, so I got to use my Spanish for a couple sentences! Haha)

There were also a few disadvantages:

1.     Too much to see! It was hard to decide where I wanted to visit in such a short amount of time. But I was happy with my choices!

2.     EVERYTHING is in Catalán!!! Sooo annoying. (Catalán is one of the 4 official languages of Spain. It’s kind of a mix between Spanish and French, and it was frustrating because as knowledgeable as I should be in speaking Castellano—the politically correct word for “Spanish”—I didn’t always understand what signs and certain words meant, because some Catalán words are completely different.

3.     When we weren’t deciphering Catalán, we were generally spoken to and communicated in English. Since Barcelona is apparently so touristy, pretty much all of the waiters, shop owners, helpful citizens who gave directions, etc. all speak English. I did get to talk to one shop owner for several minutes (while waiting to pick up Colin’s custom-made Barcelona jersey…but don’t tell him I have it yet. He doesn’t know. And he’s currently out of the country), and we talked in Spanish. He told me that the taxi drivers in Barcelona have to be able to speak at least 4 languages in order to get their license to drive a taxi! Crazy! But at least they’ll get you where you need to go…

4.     Let’s just say that Laura had a traumatizing encounter with a naked man in the hostel… all 3 of us had to walk past him to get down the stairs to go to the beach Sunday morning, but Laura was the one who turned the corner and saw it first. So Ali and I had fair warning and I luckily saw nothing but the floor and my water bottle which was blocking my face. (she may not have wanted me to share that story publicly, but I couldn’t leave it off the “disadvantages list”…)

I think that’s a pretty good summary for now. I will now sleep for about 3 hours, get up and go to the airport! When I get home, I will post an overall summary/conclusion of “Ashley’s Spain Adventures.”

(Also, I will now add captions to the pictures in my previous post, in case you’re interested in what they are!)

So, for the last time in Spain (until I come back and visit someday): ¡Buenas noches!

avance de Barcelona

Since I don't have time to write a full blog post about this past weekend's Barcelona trip, I'll give a little "avance" (preview) for now... A few pictures now, explanations and stories later...

in the gift shop at FCBarcelona Stadium! Took this picture for Colin, mostly.

In front of the Gaudí's gaudy "Sagrada Familia"--a 100-year-old Cathedral
that is still constantly under construction. Ridiculous.
(This was where I decided where the word "gaudy" came from--it was a word invented to describe Gaudí's style...
just a theory, but it seems plausible.) 

Gaudí's "Casa Batlló"--a very interesting structure (home?) in the middle of what basically seemed like
the Manhattan of Barcelona. It definitely stood out among
all the fancy banks, high-end shops, and modernized surroundings.

Fideuá. Basically, paella cooked with noodles instead of rice,
but keeping with the whole seafood theme.
(One of my professors here recommended that we try it if we got the chance)

Laura and I on the beach on Sunday morning!
It was wonderful to reunite with her in Barcelona. 

...That's all you get for now! Stay tuned for more details after I get this essay turned in, 

and some finals studied for! 

Policarpo

The past 24 hours or so have been eventful, to put it nicely. They’ve also been quite frustrating. I’ll try to be brief…

Basically, I was trying to buy my train tickets to Barcelona for this weekend. The first time I tried (after entering all my info., including passport number, address, credit card number, expiration date—which the site, in English for convenience, called the “Expiry date”. I had never heard that before—of the credit card, etc.), I think I entered the wrong password for Visa’s Approval, but it didn’t let me try again, didn’t tell me how to reset it, nada de eso (none of that). I kept trying and trying, hoping it was a different, more fixable mistake, but alas no. I even tried a different card and it wouldn’t work! It probably thought someone had stolen my identity (or at least my passport/credit card), so it kept rejecting my attempts. Around 10:00pm I decided I may as well try walking to the train station to see if someone there could help me. (Kaitlin volunteered to go with me.)

When we went in to tell Madre Carmen where we were going—the polite thing to do here, as they told us on Orientation Day—she told us that it was too late and no one would be there. She also called her son-in-law, Policarpo (yes that’s his name. Carmen usually calls his “Poli” for short) and he volunteered to come over to help me figure it out. I tried to tell her it was a problem with my credit card, and not something he could fix, but she insisted that they live close by and it’s not a problem, etc. In the meantime, my mom was talking to “our personal banker” (aka: the lady at my bank who we call every time we have a problem) and she was communicating with Visa about why the transaction attempt was rejected. After it seemed like the problem was going to be fixed, I went and told Madre Carmen that my bank was working on it and it wasn’t necessary for the son-in-law to come over. She called him back and told him he didn’t have to come. (I was relieved, because at that point I was so frustrated, I didn’t want to add embarrassment to the mix. Plus I was already so angry I was on the verge of tears—I cry when I’m angry, if you didn’t know.) While waiting to hear from “my” banker, I was facebooking with Colin and my Mom, venting to them about the situation and getting homesick—wishing I could just be in America where things are, in Kaitlin’s words, “really freakin’ convenient”; and where I would have a CAR and wouldn’t have to buy a train ticket at all! (I was angry at Spain at that point, but we have since discussed our differences and have made amends.) I also told Madre Carmen that if the problem wasn’t fixed, I could go to the train station first thing in the morning to buy my ticket in person. (She assured me this would work, even though I was pretty sure I would have to go to Madrid to buy it in person, because the train doesn’t leave directly from Alcalá.)

After receiving an e-mail from the banker lady saying it should be fixed, I tried again. It took an hour for me to read her e-mail, try the whole thing again, and e-mail her back telling her it still didn’t work—all because the internet was so slow and flaky (and not the good kind of flaky—like my daily morning croissant I eat for breakfast). Eventually, after trying a couple times with a different card, I decided to just go to bed and forget about it until morning—to avoid throwing my computer off the balcón (balcony), or simply screaming and waking up the few people in Spain who were actually in bed at the early hour of 1:00am.

This morning, I got up in a much better mood (which led me to believe that most of yesterday’s frustrations were the result of no siesta…), ate my flaky croissant and drank my café con leche and got ready to walk to the train station. When I went in to tell Madre Carmen (who was in the middle of blowdrying her hair) that I was leaving, she asked if I wanted her to come with me. I said it didn’t matter to me, but she took that as a yes (which was actually a relief, because with her there I could better understand the situation and communicate more effectively) so I waited for her to finish her hair and put on her make-up and we went to the train station (only a 5ish-minute walk). [On the way to the train station, Madre Carmen and I talked religion—I found out that she does believe in God and she is Catholic, but not the kind that practices on a daily basis (or as she put it, “not asking God to forgive my sins all day long”—rough translation). That explains why I don’t see Catholic paraphernalia around our house; I had expected, in Spain, to be surrounded by rosaries and crucifixes.] So it was cool to talk to her about that.

At the train station, we discovered that the American was right—I would have to go to Madrid to buy my ticket in person. But the lady gave us a phone number to call where I could reserve my ticket and then print it off tomorrow at the station, and also told me to try a different website—one that ended in .es instead of .com—to see if it worked better. Well, I tried the website and typed it in just as she wrote it, and it automatically redirected me to the original website I had been using all along. So that didn’t work… Strike 14(ish).

Fast-forward a little bit: Madre Carmen and I walked to her daughter, son-in-law, and granddaughter’s house so that he—“Poli”—could help me try it on his computer. Good news: I didn’t look like a complete ignorant American fool; Bad news: it didn’t work for him either. So, eventually he bought my tickets using his own card (and I later paid him back in cash). Then, he drove Madre Carmen and I to his parents’ apartment (right around the corner from Carmen’s) to print the tickets off. That was also successful. Then he dropped us off at our own home, and I began a more relaxed and productive afternoon than yesterday’s.

In short, I am blessed to have a sweet and caring Spanish “Madre” with a generous and helpful family! Praise the Lord, I’m going to Barcelona tomorrow!! J [the next entry, therefore, will be ALL about Barcelona, and my reunion with a long-time friend and her husband!! See ya Sunday!].

Leche estropeada

Okay, so it’s been a while… I’ll try to update on my week post-Valencia.

Well this week was midterms. So that’s crazy.

As of right now, I have about 10 days left here in Alcalá. So I’m already 2/3 of the way done! Hard to believe… but the glass is 1/3 full!

Oh, this week Kaitlin and I discovered Madre Carmen’s flaw. (We knew there had to be one, we just didn’t see it until now.) I’ll begin with Wednesday… Dinner was ready, but we weren’t aware of it. So by the time I went into the kitchen to eat it (because Katlin was on a run), the food was cold. Problem #1: I didn’t know how long it had been sitting out. Problem #2: It was fish. Problem #3: It wasn’t fried or grilled (and lacked any evidence of being cooked). All of these factors made me a little worried. However, I was hungry. So I put my food in the microwave and heated it all up. When I was almost done eating, Kaitlin came home from her run, and I told her that the fish was cold and that it tasted funny. But I had already eaten half of it (which was more than I could stand at that point, because psychologically I thought I was possibly eating uncooked, or at least not freshly cooked, fish), and there was no turning back. Kaitlin—genius, pre-med student that she is—decided to cook hers (again?) on the stove. As hers was sizzling in the skillet, mine was churning in my stomach. (Okay, that’s probably an exaggeration, but in my head it seems accurate.) After a few minutes, she asked me “Do you think this is cooked now?” I responded “You’ve at least killed any of the bacteria that are now swimming in my stomach.” She took that as a yes, and ate her fish in peace. I, on the other hand, felt sick at the thought of what I may have eaten. And also decided I’ve had enough fish for a while… THEN, fast-forward to Thursday… For dinner that night, Madre Carmen offered me chicken that had been sitting out since before lunch. I wouldn’t have known that if Kaitlin hadn’t told me (I was gone on a field trip during lunch, so when I got back Kaitlin said that it had been sitting on the table all day.) THEN, later that night… We had a field trip the next day (Friday), and had to leave an hour earlier than usual. So, we told Madre Carmen that we would need sandwiches for lunch, and that we would be eating breakfast at 7:15 rather than 8:15. She asked us if we wanted her to get up and fix it for us, but I assured her we could manage. (What have I eaten for breakfast every single day for the last 3 weeks, you ask?? A croissant. And warm milk with 2 scoops of coffee and 1 spoonful of sugar mixed in.) I knew she would set out the plates and mugs, etc. for us, but thought surely we could handle the rest. However, around bedtime I got thirsty and went into the kitchen to get some water. I turned on the light and what I saw absolutely flabbergasted me. I was appalled, disgusted, and shocked. (another slight exaggeration, but it’s a literary technique… bear with me.) I hurried into Kaitlin’s room, told her “Come with me into the kitchen. I need to show you something.” We went back in there, and there it was. The table was set—plates, napkins, silverware, box of cereal, etc.—and the milk was poured. YES that’s right. She poured our milk for us—8 hours ahead of time. Kaitlin and I laughed about it, then decided to be sneaky and rebellious and (dare I say it) put our milk in the fridge for the night. Right as the refrigerator door closed, we heard Madre Carmen back towards the kitchen. Not wanting to explain our impulsive, irrational behavior of refrigerating dairy products overnight, we hurried out of the kitchen and I quickly hit the light switch on our way out. Luckily, Carmen was just going into the bathroom (right next to the kitchen, where she could have seen the newly milk-less table had we not hastily turned off the light), so we got away with our trouble-making shenanigans. (Meanwhile, Kaitlin and I ran into my room, trying to suppress our laughter, and as soon as we shut the door we couldn’t contain it anymore. We laughed about the situation and how sneaky we were being over something so silly and random and unnecessary. Then we stayed up until 4:30 in the morning. I felt like a kid again… haha). Even if the milk hadn't been rescued/refrigerated, there's no use crying over "leche estropeada" (spoiled milk). Unless of course you're laughing until you cry, as in our case... 

So then the next morning, less than 3 hours after finally going to bed, we got up to meet the group at the bus (this time more punctually) at 8:00am sharp. (however, the bus didn’t leave until about 8:15… go figure. After last week’s departure at 9:00 on the dot, when we missed it.) Anyway, we went to the town called Cuenca, about a 2-hour bus ride away from Alcalá. It was BEAUTIFUL. It’s this old town built on a hill/mountain. They utilized the mountain as a fortress, to be able to see attackers (the Moors at one point, Christians at another) from afar. As a result, the homes and everything are: a.) really old; b.) either up a steep incline or hanging off of a cliff. Here’s a picture of the famous “Casas colgadas” (hanging houses):

One of those famous houses is now a museum of Abstract Spanish Art (I know, random for a tiny old town like Cuenca), and we got to go in it! Most of the art was over my head (metaphorically speaking… the art wasn’t hanging on the ceiling or anything), because I don’t necessarily understand it, but there were some cool paintings there that were at least mildly interesting.

Also, before going to the museum, we got to go inside this cathedral:

Also: Those guys in the picture are professors from our school.
Antonio, on the left, is the OU adviser while we're here.
(We are accumulating a list of funny Antonio quotes, all of which will be shared later.)

It was beautiful (of course), and naturally cool inside—so a nice break from the general lack of air conditioning around here.

During our lunch break, we ate at a little café with a nice view. Here’s the view from our window, right next to our table:

well, this is the view from my seat at least. I could have gotten up to get a better pic,
but I was hungry!

Oh, and this is the bridge we had to walk across to get from the bus to the old area of Cuenca, and back:

It was kind of intense, but had a beautiful view!

(when we got back from Cuenca, I wasn’t feeling well and fell into a deep nap/coma. Apparently while I was asleep, Madre Carmen was telling Kaitlin how she was worried about me, and had hot tea set out for me to drink with dinner to make me feel better. She’s so sweet and motherly! Even when she leaves milk setting out all night…) So that was pretty much my Friday!

Saturday, Kaitlin and I went to the city pool, just a couple blocks away from our apartment. She swam laps while I read Twilight on a beach towel in the grass, and soaked up some sun (with sunscreen on!) for a couple hours. Then we went back, ate lunch, showered, and went to the mall! At first it felt like a giant Dillard’s or Macy’s or something. But it had like 7 floors.

-For example, one floor was basically a Bed, Bath, & Beyond.

-Another was just like Borders, with books, music, movies, and a café.

-The top floor had tons of TV’s, electronics, and toys (we spent most of our time up there watching highlights from the 2004 Olympics in Athens, on one of the display TVs).

-Another had lingerie and baby clothes (which at first seemed like a random mix, but later I realized that the former leads to the latter… think about it).

-And the bottom floor had make-up, accessories, shoes, and you know, a grocery store/supermarket.

So it was cool to see what it was like, but the only thing we bought was at the ice cream stand outside—I got frozen lemonade; Kaitlin got a vanilla ice cream cone.

So that was Saturday!

Sunday (today), we got up early-ish again to go to the Rastro in Madrid. Basically, at least a mile of streets and sidewalks covered in little tents selling all the souvenirs you could ask for—and more. Let’s just say I spent money there… And got LOTS of souvenirs! In fact, if you’re reading this, I probably got you something (Mom… Jon/Ashley… Colin).  But seriously, I was happy with my purchases! It was hard to resist everything though! (before we even got to the Rastro, we stopped at a little “tienda” (store) where some cute scarves caught our eye. We spent quite a bit of time there, because they had cute dresses, shirts, pants, and TONS of scarves! It was a good start, but it definitely got us in spending mode… Again, hard to resist all that Madrid had to offer!

When we got back from the Rastro, we recovered with a siesta. When I woke up, I got up and dumped everything I had bought that day onto my bed. Let’s just say I will probably have to buy a huge duffel bag to take as my 2^nd carry-on when I fly home… not kidding. Wish I was. For dinner, Kaitlin and I decided we wanted to splurge (the theme of the day, in a way) and go out for Mexican food! (Don’t judge us. We had a craving and went with it.) We each wore a new dress that we bought at the first little Tienda, and on our way out the door Madre Carmen was going on and on about how beautiful we looked (story of my life, right?), and she was impressed that the dresses we bought we didn’t even try on (due to the lack of dressing rooms), because they fit us perfectly. She was so sweet and sincere in telling us that! I felt so loved by her. It was precious.

At the restaurant, we had our own little private romantic table upstairs. Haha (we invited a group of people but we were late telling them about it, and late meeting them because of Madre Carmen’s compliments) we literally were the only ones up there. Here’s what our cute little booth looked like:

My lovely "date", in our cozy booth with a view.

I had nachos, Kaitlin had an enchilada. It was pricey, and not as delicious as the Mexican food I remember from back when I lived in Oklahoma, but it hit the spot for sure! We even splurged (again) and got dessert at McDonald’s. (seriously, their "Cono Black&White" is scrumptious).

Tomorrow begins the last week of school before finals!! (but it’s only a 3-day week, because Thursday is apparently a holiday here!). Oh and I've had a request for a video update, so that is coming soon... Until then, hasta luego. (I just repeated myself... "hasta luego" means "until then"... whatever. I'm repetitive and redundant sometimes.)

Segovia/Valencia Adventure Part Two: Más problemas de transportación...

...So as soon as we get off the train in Madrid, we realized we had less than 30 minutes to get to the bus station before the bus left. We frantically tried to figure out the best/fastest way to get there, knowing that walking was not an option. So we found a taxi, and tried to be patient in Madrid traffic as our cab driver headed to the bus station. As he drove, he asked us where we were from and (like the sweet old lady in Segovia) was impressed by how well we understood Spanish. We told him why we were in such a hurry, and he assured us that there is “mucho tiempo” (a lot of time) for us to get there, print off our tickets, and get on the bus. So we breathed a little easier for the rest of the trip. As we got out of the taxi, he told me  (the last one to get out) to “cierra la puerta despaciomente” (close the door slowly) and I said “Sí” and he seemed skeptical that I knew what he meant, but I slowly closed the door and he gave me a thumbs up (I guess he hates people slamming the doors to his taxi), then we ran across the street and into the bus station.

Three of the six of us already had their tickets printed, but Kaitlin, Karen, and I were planning to print them off that morning, before the Segovia trip that we missed half of. So, as we entered the bus station we had to figure out how to print them. The 3 who planned ahead went ahead and ran to the bus. Kaitlin (since she planned ahead and wrote down her ticket number from the online receipt) was able to get hers pretty quickly, then Kaitlin ran to the bus. Karen and I, since we were planning to have internet access when we printed them, were not able to print our tickets, because our ticket number was still online, not written down. (Mistake #1). Then we looked at our only other option: the line to buy tickets, which had at least a dozen people in it. At that point, I felt defeated and thought “this isn’t going to happen. We’re going to miss the bus”, so when Karen asked me “Do you think they would let us cut in line?” I said “I doubt it. Probably not.” But (thank the Lord) she asked anyway. The first lady in line, after Karen explained to her (in Spanish) what was going on, said “No. Lo siento.” And continued onto the next available clerk. The guy behind her, after Karen explained the situation to him (in Spanish), let her get in front of him. Then she asked “Y mi amiga también?” (“And my friend too?”) and he looked at me and what I hoped was a pitiful, puppy-dog look and said “Sí. Bien.” So we got to the window where the guy was selling tickets, and he initially told us he couldn’t print our tickets without our ticket numbers. (Previously, we had been told we would only need our passports and credit cards to verify our ticket.) I asked him, about to cry, “¿No puedo ir?” (“I can’t go?”) and Karen pleaded with him that our bus was leaving in 5 minutes (to which he lectured us on how we have to get there early, etc.) and we explained that our train was late and we couldn’t help it. Finally, he asked us our names, typed in the ticket numbers that corresponded with our name, and printed them off! (My theory is, he was more lenient with us since we were able to communicate in Spanish, because he probably deals with tourists all the time who can’t speak his language.) He told us it was bus “dos uno”. (as in, 2-1, not 21).

So as soon as we got our tickets, we ran down to where the buses were. We asked a random guy where “2-1” was, and he directed us toward “21” (probably assuming we didn’t know how to say “veintiuno”, the Spanish word for 21.) When we got the parking spot for bus 21, it was empty. We immediately thought we missed it. We were both about to cry (mainly out of anger, since it would have been wasted money on the bus AND the hostel we reserved), and I was talking about what we could do in Madrid before going back to Alcalá (because at least we weren’t abandoned in a boring town!) when Karen took out her phone and called one of our friends on the bus. When she answered, Karen said “We missed it. You guys left already didn’t you?” But the girl on the phone said “No. We’re pulling out now!” So we looked for the bus that was pulling out, and as soon as we saw it, we ran toward it—Karen literally running into the street in front of it to stop it! Miraculously, the bus driver opened the door for us, and we got onto the bus to the sounds of clapping and cheering (I’m not making that up—our friends, and a few people sitting near them who probably heard them talking about what was going on, literally cheered for us when we walked onto the bus). We found our seats, sat down, and a few minutes later took this picture to capture the emotion:

 Basically, we definitely wouldn’t have been able to go if we were typical tourists who don’t speak the language! Because the guy in line wouldn’t have let us in front of him, and the ticket salesman would have dismissed us at the beginning. (Also, couldn’t have done it without Karen’s boldness in asking to cut in line, and her persistence with the ticket guy!)

So, on the bus we were able to breathe and relax, for the first time all day pretty much. We slept a little bit, and we watched the Spanish version (as in, American actors, with Spanish voices dubbed over and Spanish subtitles for the hearing impaired) of the movie “Boat Trip” (a pretty raunchy, questionable movie, but at least I practiced my Spanish while I watched it).

When we arrived at the bus station in Valencia, it was about 11:30pm. Now we just needed to find our hostel (4 of the girls reserved a hostel before they knew Kaitlin and I were going, so they had their own room at one hostel. Kaitlin and I reserved an all-female room at a different hostel, because we didn’t want to end up with random guys at their hostel). In the process of trying to get directions to our hostel (Mistake #2: Not writing down the address), we met some guys from Mississippi, who heard us talking and asked us if we were American, where we were from, etc. We told them our situation, and they offered for us to go with them and stay at their hostel so we didn’t have to walk alone. It was a tempting offer, and seemed the safest, but more expensive, offer (since we would have been paying for 2 hostels instead of one), so we decided to try to find ours. One of the guys, Lee, gave us his number (one of the girls in our group let us borrow her phone, since neither Kaitlin nor I have one that is usable in Spain) and said to call him if we couldn’t find it or needed him to come help us. So that was super nice of him, and made us feel better about being in Valencia at night, just the two of us.

We asked the bus ticket guy if he knew where our hostel was, he had no idea what we were saying because the name of the hostel is in English. Then we asked the old man at the Information booth, but he said all he has is a bus schedule, nothing else. And the phone book is apparently a foreign concept here too. We finally were able to get a map at least. But then we were pretty much on our own and had no clue where to go. We went outside, where taxis were lined up, waiting for people like us. We asked one taxi driver if he knew where our hostel was, but again, since the name of it is in English, he couldn’t understand what we were talking about. We said we have the address on the internet, but didn’t have a computer or a way to look it up. He then took out his phone, and Kaitlin typed in the name of the hostel, and the cab driver used that to look up the address. Once he figured out the address, he knew where to go (thank the Lord for Google and smart phones!).

We got to the hostel around 12:15, waited in the lounge for a few minutes, where they had computers and internet access, then finally got to our room. As soon as we opened the door, we turned the light on, and quickly realized that 2 girls were already in there, trying to sleep. Luckily, they were American (or at least they spoke English) and told us we could turn the light back on to get settled in. So they were really nice. (Later, when we were asleep, 2 other girls came in and turned on the light and the process started over. These girls were Spanish, though, so we told them in Spanish it was okay to turn the light on). So, overall my first hostel experience wasn’t bad, because the girls in our room were nice and I didn’t lose sleep due to paranoia about theft or murder or anything. However, the problem we had with the hostel was the noise—since there was no a/c, the windows were open and the people on the streets were really loud. Also, at 3:00 in the morning we woke up to a girl screaming, in English “Stop! Help!” etc., and we couldn’t tell if she was laughing or crying.  Between her yells, we could hear men saying things in Spanish like “Hola…” etc., so we could tell they were bothering her or scaring her. I barely remember this since I was half-asleep, but one of the girls in our room got up and looked out the window, so I think she was watching to make sure the girl outside was okay. Then, at 4:30am, the 2 English-speaking girls got up to leave to catch a plan, so I woke up again to their rustling around. The next morning, I got to take the first hot shower I’ve had in Spain! It was a co-ed bathroom, which was weird to me at first, but it was worth it because of the hot water…

After checking out of the hostel at 9:00am, we got a text from the other 4 girls saying they were at the beach, and telling us which bus to take. This was a change from our original plan, which was to go to this science museum that’s apparently really famous in Valencia. So Kaitlin and I (much like our Madrid experience last weekend) decided to do our own thing. After a quick 10-minute walk from our hostel back to the bus station, and stopping for breakfast at a cute little pastry shop, and some trouble getting to the right bus stop, we made it to the museum by 11:00ish. After seeing most of the museum, we ate at the museum restaurant, where I tried paella (a famous, authentic Valencian dish) for the first time! It was delicious. (Basically, rice with a bunch of random seafood mixed in). Then, after looking at the gift shop and buying some souvenirs, we changed into our swimsuits in the museum bathroom and went to find the bus that would take us to the beach.

We got to the bus stop (the correct one this time) less than a minute before it came and picked us up! It was the best luck we’d had with transportation in over 24 hours! We got to the beach and I got a drink called “horchata” which one of my teachers recommended. It has a similar taste to chai, or vanilla ice cream, and it apparently comes from a fruit. I guess like squeezing a coconut and drinking the milk. Here’s a picture of me drinking it, once we found our friends (who had been on the beach all day):

Even though it's in a Coke cup, it was horchata! And it was delicious.

So we hung out on the beach for about 2 hours, took some stereotypical jumping pictures. (I pretty much nailed this one);

Karen, me, and Kaitlin.

…and I stepped into the Mediterranean Sea for the first time! It was a wonderful afternoon on the beach, although I do wish we could have been there longer.

So we left the beach around 5:00pm, because our bus was leaving at 6:30 this time and we wanted EXTRA time to get there (we thought we had learned our lesson at that point). Before leaving the beach, we asked someone the best way to get to the bus station, and she told us we could take the “Metro” and it would pretty much be a straight shot. But when we got to the nearest Metro stop, the map was confusing and it didn’t look as direct as we thought. Our next idea was to take the same bus route back that we did to get there, but we realized that could take over 30 minutes, plus any additional time to wait for each bus, since we would have to change buses a couple times. As we were trying to figure out what to do, and receiving several different opinions from the locals, we decided our best bet was to take a Taxi. We finally were able to flag one down, and he got us to the bus with 30 minutes to spare! We even had time to change out of our swimsuits in the bus station bathroom, and sit and relax before our bus even arrived.

This bus ride, we watched a movie called “Bella,” and it was really good! (but also quite sad/emotional) It was also in Spanish, but a lot less perverted/inapprope than the other bus driver’s movie choice. I was also glad I could understand at least 95% of what the movie was saying!

When we got to the Madrid bus station, we knew we needed to get back to the train station before the last train left for the night (the trains stop running at a certain point, but the buses run all night. So a bus was our back-up plan, but that particular bus left from a station on the opposite side of Madrid). This time, thanks to Karen, we successfully got on the Metro that took us straight to our train station, “Atocha”, and we quickly found the train that would take us to Alcalá. Since we were so paranoid about our bad luck with the Spanish transportation system, we were worried for a while that we were somehow on the wrong train, because at first nothing looked familiar to us. But we asked a guy on the train, and he assured us we were on the right one. A while later, when he was getting off at his stop, he turned to us again and told us that Alcalá was just a few stops away. This time, the random helpful stranger was right.

When we got off the train at good ‘ole Alcalá, I literally wanted to kiss the ground! It was the most stressful traveling experience of my life, and it was so nice to be on familiar territory once again. After a quick walk from the train station, KAitlin and I were home!! Or, at least, our home away from home. (This apartment has never felt so home-like until now! And this bed never felt as comfortable until last night, when I slept like a baby for 11 hours, recovering from the long, stressful journey). We walked in the door, Madre Carmer greeted her “niñas” and offered to make us dinner! (It was midnight). We told her we didn’t need dinner, we just wanted to sleep. And that’s what we did.

And that is the end of my Segovia/Valencia adventure. Next weekend, Kaitlin and I are staying in Alcalá… 

Segovia/Valencia Adventure, Part One: "Créelo."

(Disclaimer: If you are annoyed by overly-detailed stories, you'll probably hate this post... But for those who want the full story, read on...)

Okay, where to begin… Friday was the field trip to Segovia, to see the Alcázar and the Cathedral of Segovia. We were told 9:00, so we tried to get there then, but were about 2 or 3 minutes late. Before we got to the meeting place, we found 3 other girls who told us the bus had just left—2 of them had watched it drive away at 9:00am on the dot. In our defense, this was the FIRST time that we haven’t had a 30-minute window to arrive there before actually leaving. (we later found out they started taking attendance at 8:30, but we were only told 9:00). So, 3 of the 5 of us girls needed to be there for a class credit (myself and another girl were just going for fun, so we didn’t absolutely have to be there. Which was good for my own sanity/stress level). So one girl, Karen, called Antonio, one of the professors on the trip, as we ran to the train station (several blocks away from where the bus left on campus). Antonio told us that there are only about 2 trains a day that leave from Alcalá to Segovia, so he seemed to think it unlikely that we would be able to catch one. We got to the train station and looked at the schedule: A train was leaving for Segovia in 6 minutes. We quickly and impulsively bought tickets, and caught the train in time. The problem was, we had no idea how long the trip would be.  After about 30 minutes, we asked a man sitting near us how long until the Segovia stop. He said he didn’t know, probably about 30 minutes. At that point we thought, “Oh then we’ll beat the rest of the group!” So we settled into our train seats and enjoyed girl time…

About 2 ½ hours later, we arrive in the train station in Segovia. Then, we were supposed to meet up with the group at Alcázar, so we looked at a map outside the train station. It looked like a long walk (from one corner of the map to the other) but we didn’t have a choice. On our way in what we were hoping was the right direction, we stopped and asked a Segovian man if we were going the right way. I told him we were trying to get to Alcázar. He looked surprised for some reason (and I panicked for a moment thinking: we’re probably in the wrong town or country or something), and asked me to repeat that. I told him we needed to get to Alcázar, and asked if we were going the right way. He said It’s very far from here… we said we know, but we have to get there. He told us that we were following the right street so we continued…

As we approached Alcázar, we saw the top of a beautiful building on a hill nearby. One of the girls thought it was Alcázar, but I knew it was the Cathedral (which would be the 2nd stop of the group on the field trip) from looking at pictures of the 2 places on Google the night before. Around that time, we got a phone call from Antonio saying they were leaving Alcázar (so yes, we missed that tour completely) and to meet them at the Cathedral. Luckily, at that point we knew where it was (because, luckily, it’s a huge building on a hill that stands out like a sore thumb. But it’s way bigger and more beautiful than a sore thumb!) So we cross the street, cross a bridge, hike up some steep stone steps (and take a photo op break in the middle, because the view was beautiful), and find ourselves in the middle of really narrow walkways between old buildings. I felt like I was in a medieval town or something. As we were walking semi-aimlessly up the hill, getting deeper into the town and hopefully closer to the Cathedral, I asked an old woman walking by if we were going the right way to see the Cathedral. She said yes, turn right at the next sidewalk and it’ll be straight ahead. We told her thank you and continued on the route she suggested. Well, she gave good directions because we made it!

We celebrated the victory for a minute or two, relieved we had made it there before the field trip group, when the same old woman caught up to us and came to talk to us again. She asked us where we were from, and we told her the United States. She said “¿y hablaís castellano?” (Castellano is the politically correct term for Spanish here, because of the other “dialects” that are also considered the national languages of the country). She was surprised we spoke “Castellano” so well! We then asked her if she would take our picture in front of the Cathedral. Here is the picture she took:

Please excuse the disheveled state of my hoodie...

After taking the picture, she said (in Spanish) “If you want to see another beautiful building with a beautiful view, you should visit Alcázar, it’s just down this street and to the left” We laughed to ourselves, (and I thought ‘Yeah we’ve heard. Sensitive subject’) and thanked her for all her help.

Just a couple minutes later, we see the group from the Universidad de Alcalá walking up the street that the lady indicated led to Alcázar. There were cheers and hugs as we reunited with our friends. Then the professors (Antonio and Carlos) leading the trip told us we had about a 1 ½-hour break for lunch and to go shopping or whatever we wanted to do, because there was a Mass going on in the Cathedral so we couldn’t go inside yet. Our paranoid group of girls, however, decided to stay close to the meeting area so we wouldn’t miss the group AGAIN.

Karen and I (2 of the original 5 lost girls—or “La Cinco” as we called ourselves) sat and ate with a girl named Sarah, who told us the Alcázar was only a 5-minute walk from the Cathedral. So she took us there so we could at least see the outside of it, and see the view the old lady had told us about. As we approached it, Sarah our “tour guide” said “Creélo” (which means “Believe it.”), which was a very fitting phrase to introduce what we saw. Basically, this is what we missed:

This picture of course doesn't do it justice...
See facebook for more, including the amazing view and a real-live MOAT!
It was incredible.

But I am glad I at least got to see the outside of it! It was apparently a castle where a King lived at some point (I would know more details if I hadn’t missed the tour… sorry.)

Then we walked back to the Cathedral to meet the group (20 minutes early this time), and we toured the inside of the Cathedral. As we left the Cathedral with the field trip group, a group of 6 girls going straight from Segovia to Madrid, to catch a bus to Valencia (3 of the original 5 including myself, plus 3 others) were getting a little nervous about getting back to the train station in time, to get to Madrid and catch our bus (a bus that we already bought tickets for the night before—a bus that would lead us to the hostel that we already paid for the night before as well. In other words, a very important and expensive bus. Later, you’ll see why I emphasize that…). We followed the big group down to where we hope was a familiar area that we could find the train station again. I was about to ask why we were following them on a different route, when we saw this:

This famous aqueduct of Segovia goes back to the Roman days, as in like, Jesus time. Incredible. I had completely forgotten that it was in Segovia until we came across it with the group (still led by Antonio and Carlos at that point). I was thankful we didn’t miss the opportunity to see it! From there, we ditched the big group and the 6 girls (Kaitlin, Karen, Sarah, Christina, Sami, and me) plus another group of American students from the Universidad headed toward the bus station to get to Madrid in time to catch our bus to Valencia. (The 6 of us, plus the rest of the big group all had the same bus to catch). We thought we were going to catch a bus that was supposed to leave for Madrid at 4:07 that was a high speed bus and would get us there by 5:30ish (Our bus to Valencia left at 7:30, so we were hoping for a 2-hour window to get from the train station in Madrid to the bus station in Madrid, where our all-so-important bus was waiting to leave for Valencia). However, when we finally got to the bus station, with just enough time to buy tickets to the high-speed train, the lady at the station said that that particular train leaves from a different station, about 5 kilometers away. There was no way we could make it there in time. So, we settled for buying tickets for the 4:50 train, leaving from that station, that would get us to Madrid a little later, but hopefully by 6:25ish. We had time to rest in the train station as we waited for it to leave at 4:50. We even got on the train about 30 minutes early, settled into our seats once again, and relaxed for a while.) However, as we approached Madrid, we realized the train we were on (which was supposed to arrive in Madrid at 6:36 on the dot) was running late…. (story continued in part 2.)

Por un ratito

Alright, I know I'm a slacker... sorry bout that.
So today I got some bonding time with Madre Carmen! She asked me if I wanted to go with her to walk Javier, her grandson, home. I think she was surprised when I said yes! She said it would only be about 30 minutes, but we were gone for 2 hours. haha we went to the new part of Alcalá, where basically all the neighborhoods look just like in the movie "Billy Elliot," so apparently very typical European. On the way to Javier's house, we stopped at a park "por un ratito" (a little while). But we sat there for what in English would be "more than a little while." But I was okay with it! She kept asking me if I was bored, and I kept assuring her that I wasn't. It was nice to be outside and sit and watch Spanish children play. The weather was perfect. And there was a dad sitting on the same bench as us, who was there with his 2 sons and it was cute to watch them interact and listen to them speak Spanish, etc. I also got to tell Carmen about how frustrated I have been with learning primarily literature in my Spanish classes at OU, and that that's why speaking Spanish is the hardest part for me. I told her I'm much better at writing and reading, and even understanding than speaking the language. She told me that her son (Javier's dad, her youngest) has the same problem with English. He spends a lot of time in England on business, and spent a few months in Ireland learning English.
Soon after we were talking about this, Javier's dad came to the park so I got to meet him. He did the European double-kiss thing, (so did his wife when I met her a little bit later). I felt so cultured knowing what to do and not being awkward about it. haha so we talked to him about my difficulty with speaking Spanish moreso than writing/reading/hearing it, and he smiled and said "Te entiendo" (I understand you/I know what you mean). So that was encouraging, and probably helped Madre Carmen understand my struggles with Spanish, and why she probably thinks I don't talk much. She knows now that even if I understand her, I don't always know how to respond.
After Carmen and I left Javier at the park with his parents, we started to walk back home, but she mentioned the mall nearby and asked if I wanted her to show me where it is. I said sure! so we went there and went inside briefly. The only familiar store I saw (in the small part of the mall that we walked through) was H&M. I'm thinking Kaitlin and I should definitely go back one afternoon though.
Then we came home and she made dinner and I ate it alone (because Kaitlin is on a field trip this afternoon/evening). But I didn't mind a bit. It was a great afternoon! (But Javier is still super shy around me. I finally got him to tell me how old he is though--he's three.)
So, tomorrow is Friday--no classes, but I am going on a field trip! (It's optional for me, but since it's free through the school, I'm taking advantage of the opportunity). We're going to Segovia. I will post pictures when I get back!
Tomorrow is also a special day--Colin and my 3-year anniversary! In honor of that, here's a picture from the weekend that we first met (January 2008).

Happy Anniversary, boo! :)

I'll end with a few more observations about my life here in Alcalá:
1. The tap water here tastes better than Norman water BY FAR! Probably even better than Tulsa water. I drink it straight from the faucet--I never do that in Oklahoma!
2. Speaking of water, have I mentioned I haven't had a hot shower the whole time I've been here? Well I haven't. And I wouldn't say anything if the water were luke-warm, but it is FREEZING COLD. I used to love showers, now I dread them. And I'm not exaggerating: the water that I've been drinking at every meal is significantly warmer than the water I've been showering in.
3. Children act the same, no matter what country they're from or what language they're speaking. Watching them at the playground today, it was really cool to think about how universal "being childlike" is. I'm learning what I love about kids--they're consistent in who they are, they live for the joy of the moment, and they are ridiculously adorable everywhere in the world.
4. I LOVE the phrases and words they use hear that aren't commonly taught in classes. For example, they say "Vale"--pronounced kinda like "Ball-ay--for "okay"; and "Ciao" (like the Italian word for goodbye--I don't know if that's how it's spelled in Spanish though) just as often, if not more than, "adios." I'm also adopting the short form of "Hasta luego"--here it's more like "Ta luego." So anyway, I'm trying to get in the habit of saying "Vale." It's my new favorite colloquial Spanish phrase.


Vale. Now I'm going to work on some homework... ¡CIAO!