Lo que nos une

I think that there is commonality among most cultures concerning what people hope for or value. I have noticed that in Spanish culture, they intensely value time spent with their loved ones, eating good food, and having a roof over their heads. I started thinking about it, and realized that there probably aren’t many people in the world who don’t value these things. It really is just the way in which it manifests itself. For example, in comparison with my family in the United States, my host family appears to spend a great deal more time together. Although both groups value family time, the Spanish family appears to actually practice it more often. Also, there is the difference of what we mean when we say family. My American family thinks of family time in terms of our immediate family, whereas in Spain family time may include distant relatives. My host mother spends a great deal of time on the phone talking to her siblings and their families, and even more time at her in-laws’ apartment down the street. I’ve heard her complain once or twice about the things that she goes through trying to help them or just being there listening to people’s problems, but no more than once or twice. I think from an American perspective we would say that she is wasting time fulfilling silly obligations and not doing things for herself. I often think that it’s an unfair situation, but then I can see it from her perspective as well. Here is where I’ve observed the great divide between Spanish communalism and American individualism. My host mom feels that she is part of a bigger group of people – her family – and that her destiny is inextricably linked with theirs, for better or for worse. She could never just stop doing what she does and simply leave it all behind because then she would fall like a petal from a flower and what would she be? My host mom does not see what she does as an obligation, but rather as just a natural part of life. To me, it is unnatural to think this way, as it is to many Americans. I find it incredibly interesting, because I realize that if I had never left the United States, I would always assume that the most important aspect of life is personal accomplishment. I would continue to consider that being a caring person who is always there for you is a wonderful quality, but that it never could be at the same level as the quality of putting yourself first. We run around like chickens with our heads cut off, trying to do things for ourselves, pushing each other out of the way, because God forbid, we would be wasting our precious time if we had to sit and listen to an old woman telling a story and trying to remember the name of so-and-so who did this-and-that.
I’m not saying that personal accomplishment is something to be downgraded. What I’m saying is that too often it puts us in the position of disregarding the value of being a caring person. I won’t say that one way of life is better than another, but I will say that I admire the idea of people growing with, and because of, the people around them, rather than pursuing a narrow-minded track of personal glory. What I really want to take away from this is that the life of some successful corporate CEO is no better or worse than the life of a stay-at-home Spanish mom who cooks, cleans, and always has a minute to sit and have a café con leche and listen to your problems.

"Son tus huellas el camino"

"Proverbios y Cantares", Campos de Castilla (1912)
Antonio Machado

XXIX
Caminante, son tus huellas
el camino, y nada más;
caminante, no hay camino,
se hace camino al andar.
Al andar se hace camino,
y al volver la vista atrás
se ve la senda que nunca
se ha de volver a pisar.
Caminante, no hay camino,
sino estelas en el mar.

[My rough translation...]
Walker, your footprints
are the path, and nothing more;
walker, there is no path,
you make the path by walking.
Upon walking you make the path,
and upon looking back,
you see the path that never
will you return to walk.
Walker, there is no path
but rather the wake in the sea.


In my literature class, we are studying the poetry of the Generation of '98 and Modernism in Spain. The above poem is one of my favorite works that I've encountered in the Spanish language. It's a very simple poem; the vocabulary is not difficult and it's obviously not lengthy. I actually read it in a high school Spanish class as well. But behind the linguistic simplicity is the message. Machado is saying that there is no predetermined path that we take in life. We all create our own path and all that we leave behind are footprints ("Your footprints are the path") or "estelas en el mar" (the wake in the sea, presumably left behind a boat). Evidently, things like footprints and wakes eventually disappear, and this is the depressing aspect of the poem. But I think that the positive message - that we are the makers of our own destiny, that we have "libre albedrío" (free will) - overshadows the negative. Perhaps the price we pay for free will is that eventually we disappear. Oddly enough, this seems to connect with a phrase from Federico García Lorca's poem, "1910", that has been rolling around in my head all week: "He visto que las cosas cuando buscan su curso encuentran su vacío" (I've seen that the things that search out their course encounter their void). I'll have to think more about this connection.
My point was to say that this is a beautiful poem, and that I believe that we are all individuals and we have the power to create and live by our own values, however impermanent they may be.
It also makes me think about the journey I'm on right now - studying abroad. I catch myself everyday thinking, "You're not doing this right." I keep feeling like there's something I'm missing out on, and everyone else seems to be getting. The truth is, there is no right way! How liberating, and yet how scary. I've been telling myself this for at least the last two years, but my insecurity and lack of self-confidence is always my downfall. No more.

I'm here to leave my very own footprints, and I have 24 days left to do it.

Ávila

Yesterday afternoon, I traveled by train about an hour to the city of Ávila, accompanied by my two Korean house mates. We got on the train about 3pm and reached the city with the highest altitude in Spain at about 4pm. We disembarked and headed towards the "Centro de Información para Visitantes", which turned out to be quite a hike. We soon discovered that not only is Ávila the highest city in Spain, it also is the coldest. I haven't fact-checked that, but it seemed fairly evident with the wind tearing through my body. We got to the information center and got a map and some half-hearted advice on what to see from a somewhat bored employee, and then headed out the main attraction of Ávila, which are the city walls - "las murallas". We walked through the gates and saw the Cathedral of Ávila, which was planned as a cathedral-fortress because it is actually one of the turrets of the wall. It is considered to be the first Gothic style cathedral in Spain. Then we went to purchase tickets to go up onto the wall. The stairs are incredibly steep, and it was comical trying to walk up them. Laughing while scaling steep stairs makes the process a bit more difficult. After taking numerous pictures on top of the Great Wall of Spain (self-invented nickname), we went to the Convent of Santa Teresa. It was dark by this time, and it was absolutely silent in the church. It gave me shivers. You know how when all of a sudden you realize that it's completely silent because you only hear the ringing in your ears? It was exactly like that. I realized that I haven't heard perfect silence in a long time (if that makes any sense). It must be from living in an apartment where you always are hearing some sort of sound. That reminds me - I recently found this show about the future called The Tomorrow Show with Mo Rocca on CBS, and I watched one on the future of noise which was really interesting.
Anyway, off track.
We ended up walking around some more after the convent, bought some postcards and took some pictures with the walls lit up at night. We stopped at a café/bar on the way back to the train station. Here's what happened there:
I went up to the bar to order. There was a guy and a girl about my age sitting a few seats down. I asked the bartender for "una caña" (a beer). Immediately after saying this, one of the guys mimicked my pronunciation in a rude manner and he and the girl laughed. I just stared at them because I couldn't believe it. They knew I could hear them, but they did it anyway, and they knew that I was staring straight at them afterwards, but they didn't even make eye contact. At least they had some shame. It's just strange, because I had never experienced anything like that until yesterday.
Then, as we continued walking towards the train station, some people drove by in a car and yelled something extremely rude that I'm not even going to repeat here. So unfortunately, Ávila left me with a bit of a bitter taste in my mouth at the end of our short trip. Spain is not a country that is without xenophobia or racism. It's not that I didn't know it was there before, but I had just never personally come across it.
But I'm over it, moving on, today's another day.

30 days

Well, it seems I haven't kept up with this blog as much as I would have liked to, but I will remedy that situation starting now. I have exactly 30 days left in Spain. I can't even believe how fast the time has passed. Today I registered for my classes for Spring 2010, and I'm already thinking and planning for being home. I'm trying not to do this, but it's hard to keep it out of my mind. I miss home quite a bit, but this does not mean that I'm not having an amazing experience here in Valladolid. Everyday, a million little things remind me of how happy I am living and studying in this city. This is also not to say that I don't have my down moments. My mood is like a roller coaster, and this isn't unique to my study abroad experience. One minute, I'm wishing I was home. The next, I realize how devastating it will be to leave. I will be most sad about leaving my host family and my professors. I talk to Carmen (my host mother), and Li (my Korean house-sister) everyday at lunch and dinner, and these are some of the best moments of the day. We talk about a lot of different things, usually beginning with a lengthy discussion about the day's weather. :-) Usually we end up laughing hysterically.
I am finding that my conversational Spanish is greatly improving, although I naturally have moments when I feel like it's at a standstill. It's all about the idea of "two steps forward, one step back".
I have quite a bit of homework, but I also have quite a bit of free time to balance it out.
Generally, life is very good.

My Life in Food: Do I Really Need This Much Protein?

I just got done eating lunch (la comida). Today we had a ham, lentil, and vegetable soup, followed by pimientos rellenos (stuffed peppers with fish, egg, onion, lettuce in a spicy sauce). It was amazing! The pimientos rellenos are my new favorite food. The cuisine here is in some ways very much the same as in the U.S., but in many ways it is very different, and much better. There are definitely specialties here, and most of these specialties contain seafood or beans. I’ve had a lot of bean stews (fabadas) and soups that have different types of beans, including lentils, garbanzos, and alubias blancos (white beans? I don’t know what we would call them in English). Of course, there is paella, a rice dish that can contain chicken, seafood, any variety of vegetables, and the very distinctive saffron. I tried paella the second week I was here, at one of the aforementioned “casetas”, but I didn’t like it. When my host mom, Carmen, made it for me, it was much better. But I still think you have to be in the right mood for it. I’m not sure if it is the saffron that is strange to me, or if it’s the fact that it is very fishy- tasting. I’ve had garbanzos in a stew/soup (not sure how you distinguish between one or the other) and also in a lettuce salad with tuna.
I’ve gone into a lot of detail here, but let me backtrack and just describe in general how one eats in Spain. We’ll begin with breakfast, el desayuno. One can eat breakfast (desayunar) anytime of the morning, unless of course one sleeps until lunch (la comida) around 2pm. Breakast consists of some sweet, cookie-like crackers and a mini-muffin or some other small pastry. My host mom started setting out the peanut butter for me, and I just assumed that I should put it on my crackers. Much as I enjoy this, I'm not sure how authentic peanut butter is to Spanish culture. Let's move on to the second meal of the day. As I said, lunch is the biggest meal of the day, and is comprised of three “courses”. The first is usually a large plate of pasta, salad, or a bowl of soup or stew. When I had my first meal here, I thought that when I finished my huge quantity of pasta, I was done, but I was wrong. The second course is usually meat or fish, served as a filet. The third course is optional (although mi madre seems very concerned if I’m too full to eat it) and is usually just a piece of fruit or yoghurt. I have had some fancier desserts, but not many. One time we had these ball-shaped pastries filled with some kind of sugary cream. I’m not good at describing food, obviously, but you get the idea. It’s pretty dang good. Side note: Apparently, the three course concept is one of the many contributions of the Arabic culture in Spain.
Finally, there is dinner (la cena). This meal is consumed anytime between 9pm and 10:30pm usually. Sometimes it just depends on when I get back to the apartment. Carmen usually just heats up leftovers from lunch or from another day. Though as always it is a generous serving, it is only plate of food. La cena definitely lacks the fanfare of la comida, especially since we almost never eat together. Like I said, sometimes I will just be served whenever I get home, so I almost always eat alone.
Generally, I like everything I eat here. Every time I try something new, Carmen says “¿Te gusta, Estif?”, and I say “¡Me gusta mucho!”, so she is definitely under the impression that I will eat anything and everything. Which is true, but it reveals that I lack a distinguished palette. Oh well.
Let me add a caveat emptor: I am only describing my host family’s habits, and one can hardly make a generalization for an entire culture from these observations. The point is simply to inform you of my day to day lifestyle here in Valladolid.
¡Hasta luego!

La llegada del Otoño

Well, fall seems to have arrived in Valladolid. It was quite a sudden arrival. It was a hot summer day on Sunday, and now it’s Wednesday and people are thinking about winter coats already. My host mom said the cold is here to stay, but not everyone agrees. She said that the festival (see post above) used to be at the end of September, but they weren’t getting enough visitors because it was always too cold by that time.
Whether the weather is here to stay or not, I am enjoying it immensely. In fact, I may venture to say that fall is my new favorite season. The heat in Valladolid was unbearable at times. Of course, my problem might have been that I don’t have any shorts to wear, because I assumed that the biggest fashion faux pas in Europe was to wear shorts. I was correct, but I miscalculated the capri, or as I like to call them, manpri factor. I really don’t think I could do manpris, not at this phase in my life. Perhaps never.
Anyway, I’m enjoying the weather, because I have plenty of cool weather clothing. I also really savor the changing of seasons. It doesn’t matter what season it is, I love it when I walk outside and smell the season. How does one describe what fall smells like? I don’t know, but something inside me is capable of making this judgment. What does fall smell like in Valladolid? Cool, dry air, mixed with the aroma of food from whatever café or bakery you happen to be standing near, the fragrant perfumes and colognes of passersby (and for some reason, everyone over age 60 seems to wear the same ones), slight scent of diesel fumes from traffic, and the wafting curls of cigarette smoke. You might be disgusted by the last one, but I am not. It will always be my trigger scent for Europe, and I love it. Of course, I’ve always been one to like strange smells; when I was little I loved the smell of gasoline.
Today it rained for the first time since I’ve been here. So at the moment I would add the smell of rain. I’ve missed that smell. It’s been a long time since I’ve gone seventeen days without it (Julie, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry). This is why I couldn’t live in central or eastern Oregon (Mom, if you’re reading this, I’m sorry). Although it is situated in a desert, Valladolid ultimately does not feel like a desert because it is an urban area with parks and trees.
And with that I’ll end this olfactory tour of Valladolid.

I’ve been in Spain for over two weeks now, and I haven’t given any thought to this blog. I’m not sure what I want it to be. I don’t know if I expect it to be simple recollection of things that have happened, or whether I expect it to be some kind of deep, anthropological study of my host country. I suppose I will start with simple description and if I have any revelations about cultural differences I will write about them.
Right now, I feel like I’m getting into a routine, but I know that routine is going to change again because this past week has been out of the ordinary. Los vallesoletanos (those who live in Valladolid) have been celebrating La Virgen de San Lorenzo (The Virgin of Saint Lawrence) with a citywide festival. I guess that San Lorenzo is particularly special to this city, but I’ve heard that all around the country people celebrate the 8th of September, which is supposedly the Virgin Mary’s birthday. We had the day off of school, and according to my host mom, most people don’t have to work on that day. Anyway, this is supposed to be the last day of the festival. It’s kind of interesting that this was my first exposure to Valladolid. I guess in a way I don’t yet have a good feel of the “normal” life here.
The best part of the festival (and what I’m going to miss the most) are the casetas. These are small tapas stands that can be found all over the city. Most bars and restaurants put out a stand to represent themselves, usually pretty close to where they are actually located. At every caseta, one can buy a tapa and a small drink for 2,50 euros. It’s a pretty good deal, I think. I’ve tried a lot of tapas in the last week, including pulso (octopus usually on a piece of bread), calamari/shrimp sandwiches, tuna filet on bread, paella (which I actually didn’t enjoy – maybe I will like the kind that doesn’t include the shells), and my favorite of all – empanadas. Empanadas are kind of like little pies that have either beef, chicken, tuna, bonito (which I think is a kind of fish?) or really anything inside. Sooooo good. The drink choices are usually red wine (vino tinto), white wine (vino blanco), beer on tap (caña), or “lorencito” (honoring San Lorenzo I suppose?), which is white wine mixed with Sprite. I usually go for the vino tinto.
The other parts of the festival included concerts every night in the Plaza Mayor, parades of traditional dancers, lots of street performers, and of course, roaming hoardes of teenagers drinking calimocho (red wine and Coke, also spelled kalimotxo). They make groups called peñas that parade around the city, wearing matching outfits and continuously drinking and throwing the calimocho at one another. It was fun to see them the first couple days, but then they just got kind of annoying, as kids that age normally do. Yeah, I guess I’m old enough now to complain about “kids these days”.
It has been really fun, though, and even though I’m not sure what the normal routine of Valladolid is just yet, I am glad that this was part of my introduction to this city.