Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Part 2
The only reason that Albacete is called the New York is because in the flat, nothingness of eastern Spain, the taller buildings in Albacete stand out. It's really a fairly ugly and typical city. They replaced many of the old, historical buildings in the town with modern apartment buildings and businesses, gray and brown monstrosities that dwarf the smaller, charming old buildings next to them. Ana's parents are both from Albacete, and her parents used to live in buildings across the street from one another. That's how they first fell in love- looking through the windows into the other's homes, both prominent families, seeking out the other. At least, that's how the story is told. The reason that the family goes back each year, however, is because of Javi's family, all of his brothers and sisters except one still live in the city with their families. It's a 2 hour drive, so we swept out of the house at about 12:30 in order to get there for La Comida, the most important meal of the day, and how to really celebrate Christmas. I slept for most of the car ride and we walked up the stairs and into my Aunt Marisa's apartment at about 2:30. The apartment was heavily decorated, with a ridiculous amount of pictures on the walls, statues, blankets, throw pillows, all coated with a sort of sweet, dense scent that I'll forever identify with her apartment. It reminded me a lot of my Grandma Roma's house, the kind we've all been in at least once, with mirrored medicine cabinet filled with bottles and boxes from the 50's and 60's that I'm sure would sell on eBay. Powder blue walls, lacey beddings, terrifying sewn "dolls", and knitted, obnoxiously colored blankets are some of the other characteristics of these types of houses. I felt right at home :)
My Tia Marisa lives in the apartment by herself, so having it suddenly filled with 5 other bodies for three days put her a little bit on edge. The rest of the family arrived fairly soon, 2 more sets of aunts and uncles, a distant cousin, and one of our first cousins. All of the cousins are older in the family, the youngest is 24. Jacobo shines at the family gatherings, as he's the youngest and by far the most precious, and I don't think he minds the attention. We ate very well that first day, roasted almonds and fine cheese being two of the highlights. There's no way not to stuff yourself. If you deny more food, they either look at you like you've just run over their dog, or they ignore your request and just pile the next giant turkey leg onto your plate anyways. Immediately after lunch, we watched some TV and then Bea and I went out with Marta (the 24 year old cousin) that night to some of the local bars and generally just walked around. It hasn't stopped raining in Spain for a week, I swear, so I've become accustomed to walking around with an umbrella everywhere I go. We spent the next day exploring Albacete and then had a lunch with all of the cousins at an Italian restaraunt, 8 of us in total in attendance, with two or three in other parts of the world. It was the first dinner with cousins that they've ever had, quite distinct from the other side of the family. They talked for a while about American politics and lifestyle, one of them having lived in Washington D.C. for two years and commenting how the days were far too structured and rigid for him. I can understand that better now having seen the Spanish structure of the day, flexible and relaxed, a little of this a little of that, always with a glass of wine or time for a quick nap. The fast pace of life in the U.S, particularly in D.C, could quite easily overwhelm a Spaniard. We wrapped up the night curled up in the living room, with Jacobo rolling in laughter at Mulan, which he had never seen before, with me laughing like a fool right next to him.
Bea and I awoke the next morning and we all got ready to visit a pueblo right next to Albacete called Chinchilla, which is famous for it's homes in caves. They are literally homes built into the sides of the mountains and terrain, practical and simple, and we walked around on the one sunny day in weeks, admiring the large old buildings and churches, and witnessing how Albacete does stick out significantly on the flat land. We spent the rest of the night back in Albacete hunting for high heels for Bea (she's very specific... they can't be too high of a heel because she's quite tall and can't balance, they have to be a certain color and material) for New Years Eve, and then the immediate family gathered at a local restaurant. It was a hole in the wall, very discreet, and completely packed. There was one little old man behind the counter who you put in all your orders to and then his little old wife in the kitchen cooks everything up. It was tiny, maybe 5 tables and very traditional and Spanish, bull fighters pictures on the wall, everything painted a dull yellow, the traditional dishes being bull's tail, shrimp, or cod (and one plate of square, gray, squishy blocks which my dad called "sangre" which literally means blood and made me incredibly nervous). Jacobo and I played the entire way home, my boots made a clicking noise on the sidewalk and Jacobo designed little rythymns on the pavement, jumping every few steps, Ana smiling at us and both of us laughing and chattering in Spanish. I realized later that night that I'd been speaking in all Spanish the entire weekend and I didn't even notice, it's become so natural.
Ana, Bea, and I went home the next morning, the 28th, thanking Aunt Marisa and having slept and relaxed enough in the past week for the enitre year. That's what Christmas vacation is for, I guess. Jacobo stayed in Albacete with my dad, they'll return on the 30th. These past two days, I chatted with my family at home on Skype, catching up on the normal antics (particularly those of the beloved Bruce). I miss my family in Nerstrand but I'm falling more and more in love with the family here. I went to my friend Robi's last night for a Spanish horror movie and Italian coffees. Bea and I are celebrating New Years in a "hotel" decked out as a club. We're going to my grandpa's other house in Madrid for a dinner and then out and about until the wee hours of the morning, which is the only appropriate, Spanish way. Pictures will be uploaded very soon, more ridiculously long blogs to come, there's too much to remember and love about these Holiday seasons-- no snow, but cold-- not the normal, but wonderful.
Besitos y Besitos, Sami
Part 1
I'm going to document Christmas in a few parts, since they were all pretty distinct for me and the camera with all the photos is in my dad's pueblo in Eastern Spain (that'll be explained later). This entry will be entirely text recounting the past week or so.
The first real event was Christmas Eve, which in some ways is a bigger deal than Christmas day. It's called Nochebuena, and it's traditionally the night where the family gathers to celebrate the religious aspect of the holiday. Since Spain is largely Catholic, the story of Jesus' birth is recounted many times in many different manners, there are Nativity Scenes set up everywhere that you turn and all the little kids have at least one or two plays recounting the story. We all got very dressed up and went to my Grandpa's house in Las Matas which is inbetween Madrid and Majadahonda. My grandpa was a successful architect in his life, so he has space to accomodate the entire family.... 42 of us in total, 23 first cousins alone. When we got there, the normally freezing house was warm with bodies and the heat from the kitchen and just general joy and anticipation. It was, in some ways, similar to a made-for-TV movie with every family member hugging the other and giving the 2 traditional kisses. In the middle of it all, my Grandpa was standing with his normal, thick, knitted dark green and blue sweater, with his hands behind his back, humming pretty loudly, but to himself. I wonder what he could have been feeling or thinking with all those souls, small and large gathered around him enjoying one another, knowing that he had ultimately made it all possible.
Los Reyes Magos (or the Three Kings) bring the gifts to the children here in Spain. Santa Claus exists (Papa Noel) but he is considered more "American" and is celebrated in "modern" households (those were the exact words Bea used to describe it to me... I'm not quite sure what it means). The Three Kings don't bring the gifts until the night of the 6th of January, we wake up on the 7th and find them. However, in this family, they also bring one gift for each child and hide it somewhere in the house. One by one the kids start sniffing around for the presents, they slowly form a sort of parade, streaming in and out of rooms with aunts guiding the little ones and eventually the entire family following behind, searching for the room with the gifts. Eventually, we found the room, each cousin has a wrapped present with their name on it. Bea recieved pajamas, Jacobo a telescope, and I got a small bag and makeup. My grandfather gives each of his grandchildren 50 euros, and I was included in that as well, a great relief for a broke exchange student. All the smaller cousins ducked in and out of their parents legs and escaped aunts reaching for sloppy kisses, posing quickly for pictures and then moving back to their new dolls or lego sets. It was general chaos and extremely hot, with wrapping paper flying in every possible direction and flashes of cameras hitting you when you least expected it.
Eventually we moved to another part of the house, where we usually eat meals and congregate every Saturday, and formed a circle, each person holding a wrapped present. This was my favorite part of the evening, the Secret Santa gift exchange. The Spanish are known for their fiestas, they're known for their lively and rowdy dispositions. But I've never seen anything like this. One by one they chant a cousin's name, staring with the youngest who is only 3 months old. That person walks (or in Pilar's case, is carried) into the center and your Secret Santa, the other cousin meets you in the middle and hands you the gift. With the entire family hooting and hollering ("It's a book!" "It's a box!" "It's a book in a box!") the cousin opens their gift, poses for a few hasty photos and then is swept out of the center with the next cousin's name being chanted. I was inserted where Javi normally is and my older cousin Begonia gave me a fantastic scarf, one that I genuinely love. It's understood that the parents shop for the gifts of the Secret Santas, so I thanked my aunt as well as Begonia for the gift, being chanted on and whistled at like all the rest. The respective parents then exchange all their gifts, the six adult couples trade within each other and the entire family pitches in for one giant present for the Abuelo. Everyone was laughing and cheering, some of the smaller boys immediately adorning their Batman and Spiderman suits and running wildly ducking and stabbing at invisible enemies, while the older family members teased one another and swept off to the dinner.
Downstairs an enormous table was set with 36 places, a smaller table off to the side for the young cousins who prefer to sit with each other... the "little kids table" in my family at home. We dined on soup and whole shrimp with mayo (I discovered that it's against the law to sell pre-peeled shrimp when they are the larger variety, the peels and eyes and legs all are testament to how fresh the animal is). We ate various kinds of meat, several types of cakes and pies, drank CocaCola and water and ate the finest bread with the finest cheese. The older cousins went back upstairs for a while, to recouperate and escape the noise and just enjoy one another's company for a while. I have a cousin named Joaquin who is convinced that a type of bracelet that he wears helps maintain his balance and equilibrium, so we enjoyed ourselves testing his theories (all of which I failed miserably, surprise surprise).
We went back downstairs eventually to watch the littler kids put on a small rendition of the Christmas Story that Jacobo had written. Jacobo is a very serious 10-year-old and takes his acting in the same regard. He was intent on having a lovely production, and got a little frustrated when the 6-year-old Angel started climbing on top of the stable when he was supposed to be holding guard over it on a chair. The play was all around adorable and hilarious, however, all the parents cheered and whooped, and it was performed a second time, just for extra clarity :) Some Christmas Carols were sung (although in Spanish they're more like party songs, a celebration as opposed to a quiet, solemn reminder that we have in Silent Night and the First Noel). We all made it back home at about 2:30, spoiling my cousins' plans to go out to clubs later that night. I've found that no night is sacred from the Spanish fiesta here, people find any reason at all to party until the sun comes up. Considering that Bea and I had to wake up the next day (Christmas day) to go to my dad's pueblo, we wouldn't have probably gone anyways, but I was still pretty shocked just at the idea. We all left one another with 2 kisses, 2 besos, and sat content on the ride home, discussing nothing at all, I was in total awe at the entire night, knowing then and there that this would be one of those things I'd look back on with a giant smile and a peace and testament to how valuable these years abroad and this cultural adventure really is.
Monday, December 21, 2009
llega la nieve
Sunday, December 20, 2009
(L) <-- The "text messaging" manner of saying LOVE in Spain :)
This is one of the streets of Majadahonda. These lights are strung everywhere in the Madrid area, this one is on the street right outside of my house.
felicidades
Sunday, December 13, 2009
how to save a life
Monday, December 7, 2009
it's beginning...
The first trimester of school is officially over, having been given our report cards (which still need to be signed by a parent/guardian and sent back to the school, even at the highest level of education). Spain is not as technologically advanced as the U.S. by any means. The big, fancy projecter that we have in one room of our school, the library, I had in every room back in Northfield. Grades are not offered electronically and, though the school has a website, it is not maintained or kept up to date. I like this in one sense, it's a more simplistic way of doing things, staying true to Spain's relaxed and easygoing environment. However, there seems to be little effort at technological development or progression, and that can be frustrating when papers get lost, messages get miscommunicated, and the exchange student has to try to scramble and pick up the pieces. For example, we have a computer in our house but no printer. So anytime it would be convenient (or necessary) to print off directions, an entrance to a concert, a document from college, etc, it has to go through my mom or my sister at work or university... I do miss that convenience about the United States. I'm learning the difference between missing things and mourning over things, for lack of a better word. You can miss something and have it in your mind without obsessing over it and having those sinking, depressing feelings. Missing doesn't have to be a bad thing.
On Wednesdays here in Madrid (and maybe in all of Spain?) everything at a local restaurant called 100 Montaditos is 1 euro. 100 Montaditos is famous for it's bocadillos, little sandwiches made on amazing bread, usually toasted, and with whatever your heart desires in the center. I typically order an array of chicken, cheese, tomato, and Spanish chorizo (similar to salami) sandwiches. They come with potato chips and all drinks are also 1 euro, so I always accompany my order with a Kas Limon, similar to Fanta Limon. It's sort of silly NOT to take advantage of Wednesdays at 100 montaditos so I always find someone to go with, be it friends from my class, other exchange kids, my host sister, or anyone else that I can drag along. This past Wednesday I went into Madrid to celebrate with one of my good friends here, Emma, for her 18th birthday, which was this past Friday. She brought two of her good friends from school, Paula and Luis, and my other American friend Devon came and brought her friend Marta from school. We talked in an exhilarating mixture of Spanish and English, Spanglish at it's very best. We all got along right away, we all had a lot of things in common... Funny how that can happen when you're born oceans apart. Who knew?
Other than that, Christmas is fast approaching and I'm doing some hunting for the host family and family back home. The best place for all gifts is at El Rastro, the street market that takes place every Sunday in Madrid, because you can find good quality, one of a kind goodies for little to nothing.... and in a pricey european culture, that's much appreciated. My friend Grayce who was living here (across the street... crazy coincidence, remember her?) is going home this Wednesday. It's yet another reminder of how flexible and concrete time is. It bends into how we want it to be percieved, but sneakily keeps marching along all the while. I went to Luna Nueva (New Moon) with my host sister Bea because she really wanted to see it and I'll take any chance either one of us can get to hang out together. Expectedly, I really didn't enjoy the movie at all, but it was nice getting some time to talk to her again. We genuinely do get along fantastically, if we can squeeze in the seconds to hang out. We also went shopping with my host mom on Saturday after being at my grandpa's for a few hours and on Friday I was out all night with some exchange student friends celebrating some birthdays. My friend Adrian at school told me I must sing "happy birthday" better than anyone because I'm always attending birthday parties. What can I say? :)
Life is Gorgeous, Una Vida Preciosa
Besos, Sami