Coming to a close

I can't believe it's been almost a month last my last post. As they say, time flies...

Everything's ending now. I've been staring the end of this semester in the face for quite a while, and today it all started becoming a reality. I took my last exam after pulling an all-night slumber party with some friends last night, after which we all went to have a "farewell luncheon" because one girl on the trip is leaving tomorrow and won't be able to make it to the official "farewell dinner" tomorrow night. I already started to get emotional after this first one. I'm starting to realize how incredibly much I'm going to miss this place... and these people. Sitting typing this now, my window is open and the sounds of Madrid seap into my bedroom... they're not so much different than the sounds of any other city, but they have a really special quality for me, and they're sounds it's going to be hard to get used to doing without.

I'm going to miss Maricarmen (our director) and Cristina (our coordinator). Maricarmen, as I've mentioned, is a saint -- an absolutely wonderful, incredible person. Cristina is 25 and has gotten to be friends with all of us over the course of the semester, letting us teach her the best ways to use English swear words.

Anyway, the point is, I can't believe it's ending. It just creeped up on me from out of nowhere, and the reality is hitting that it will probably be a very long time before I can come back. "They all end up coming back," a fellow ex-patriate told me, "just wait, you'll be back." I hope she was right.



Oh... and I never posted about Portugal and Northern Spain. Sorry about that.

The truth is there's not an incredible amount to tell... it was an awesome trip, which was more important to me in terms of getting to know people better, hanging out with the two guys who are (hopefully) to be my next year's roommates -- we've just got to find that apartment now -- and realizing I can't wait until next year. I haven't been this excited about going to DC since I first left for college, I don't think.

Anyway, the trip. Well, basically it consisted of a series of very long bus rides over the infamously beautiful landscape of the Spanish northern coast that I've already mentioned. Rode a ski lift thing to the top of the mountains in Asturias, had a hotel with a private beach in Galicia (where the water was absolutely freezing but we ran in anyway), had lunch on the grass overlooking the river in Oporto (Portugal), hiked over the rocky countryside, stayed 3 nights in Lisbon, partying, dancing, carousing, having a great time.

Unfortunately, I don't have a whole lot of pictures of my own.. though when I get back to the states (so incredibly soon) I'll add some that other people took.

That's all for now. Tomorrow, I feel, will be when it all really hits (though I might not get to post). So until further notice, to the people (mom, dad, nana, papa) whose caring and generosity allowed be to spend this incredible semester here, I absolutely cannot thank you enough. It has been the single best experience of my life -- I have fallen in love with this country and learned so much about myself and my own culture through being here. It is absolutely invaluable to me.

Basque Country

When you talk about Basque Country in Spain, you have to be very careful not to refer to it as being part of Spain, for risk of offending Basque nationalists, nor to refer to it as its own country, as it isn't that either, as much as some Basques might like it to be. In fact, Basque (as well as Catalunian) nationalism might be THE hot-button issues in Spain, politically speaking. This, as well as what I have heard about how wonderful the land and the people are, made me really want to see this part of Spain before I left. Luckily, I got to, and it was amazing.

First, a little geography.



You can see the Basque country/territory there on the Northern coast. It's a relatively small piece of land, but one which has ignited a lot of tempers, tirades and terrorism. (See articles on Basque nationalism and ETA http://edition.cnn.com/2000/WORLD/europe/11/21/spain.basque/ http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/world/europe/4832672.stm --the second article was the biggest news story in Europe for a while).

Well, all of that nonsense aside, Basque country, and the entire northern part of Spain, is perhaps the most beautiful place I've ever visited. Here are some pictures that are fairly poor representaions of just how beautiful it is there (but they do their best):



Every bend you come around is a new view, and every single one is postcard-worthy. The entire place is absolutely picturesque and I understand now why they're so proud of their land.

I drove up there with my friend Alvaro, with whom I've been doing a language exchange (half English, half Spanish), for semana santa (All of Spain gets time off for easter; we got a whole week off from school Spring Break style). He has family there, pretty distant family actually, that owns a hotel, and when we got there they were extremely hospitable. We ate at the hotel once or twice a day; the food was amazing and they eat a TON of it. Seriously, the Basques are famous for the amount that they eat, and justly so. We went to a restaurant and ordered the menu del dia (menu of the day) and they brought out veritable mountains of food, all for the same price you'd pay anywhere else in Spain for maybe half as much. I made the comment that if I lived there, I'd definitely be a little bit fat.

Anyway, his family was amazing and really went out of their way to make us feel at home. We were staying in an albergue -- which I suppose translates to something like backpacker lodge -- in a small town on the coast, Lekeitio, about 45 minutes from where the family lives, and we'd drive over there every day and visit and take excursions with them, etc. One day we went to see San Juan, which is this amazing island/rock formation off the coast not far from where we were, which a church on the top:



I made the comment that someday I'm going to have a house there. It's my new life goal. This picture



was taken from on top of the mountain. As I say, everywhere is picturesque.

We spent most of the trip just cruising around the northern shore/resting when we had time. And eating of course. We did take a day trip down to Bilbao and the Guggenheim museum, which is really incredible.



There's this gigantic sculpture of a dog made out of flowers out front (look at the size of the kid for scale reference):



Couldn't take any pictures inside of the museum itself, but it's awesome -- the architecture is absolutely stunning and the exhibitions they have are great.

We also went to France!! We wanted to drive out to San Sebastian for a day, and once you get there it's only another 45 minutes or so across the French border. Here's a picture from the French coastal town of Biarritz:



There's definitely a marked difference between Spanish Basque country and French basque country, the most notable being that in French Basque country they don't really speak Basque.

Then we did stop in San Sebastian -- the wealthiest and most expensive city in Spain, and the hotbed of Basque nationalism -- on our way back to Mundaka, where the hotel is. It's another great city, and though we weren't there for too long, I loved what I saw of it.

Here's a picture from downtown:


and another picture of a little Basque nationalist protest. Looks like somebody made the mistake of putting up a Spanish flag, so some separatists made their own statement:



So it was really a great trip. We had cheap, good lodgings, and ate like kings the whole time, mostly for free. I really fell in love with that part of Spain.. er, of the Iberian peninsula.

Here's a picture of me and Alvaro with some of his family:

Morocco, Part II

Sorry again for the long lack of an update... or completion of the prior one.

I would say that the second part of our trip was somewhat less exciting, but that's mainly because practically nothing can top the experience in the desert.

We took a long bus ride to Marrakech, where we were to stay for the remainder of the trip. We got there and found our hotel to be awfully nice -- much more up to western standards than the ones we stayed in outside the city. There was more touring around the city, going to various historically-relevant places, and then hitting up the GIGANTIC market in the center of town. There are literally thousands of booths there, most of which sell touristy-type items (that is, things catered specifically to Europeans who come -- obviously not intended for consumption by other Moroccans). Here are some pictures from there:



I went to the market on a couple of occasions, and found a few nice gifts (that means you, family!) The thing about Moroccan commerce, though (like that of many countries in this region, I imagine) is that in any place besides like a restaurant or a grocery store, it's all based on haggling. There's nobody who doesn't play the haggling game, and they all play it well. Essentially the way it works is that every time you express interest in something, the person at the store will give you a price that is usually about 4 times as much as the thing was bought for. You then make a disappointed face and say, "oh, no it's too much" and then they say "ok you want - I make you good price" and you proceed to say "oh, no it's just it's too much, I can't" and they say "no, you tell me what price you pay." You then name a price that seems close to reasonable, or maybe a little bit under it, and the store owner then proceeds to make an exasperated face. "___?! You think this is a joke?! Is worth much more!" And you can probably imagine how it goes from there. Sometimes, this can be fun. Other times it can be irritating -- especially when you see something you like and you just want to buy it. Other times, they can get really pushy. Regardless, if you want to buy, you have to play the game.

Another thing about Moroccans that impressed me is their linguistic dexterity. That is to say, especially amongst those who are trying to sell things, most Moroccans speak bits of at least 5 languages -- Berber, Arabic, French, English and Spanish. They might not be fluent in English and Spanish, but they speak well enough to communicate with you. Berber, Arabic and French they speak perfectly. I think Moroccans are especially famous for this around the globe.

While in Marrakech, we took a day trip to the not-too-far-away costal town of Essaouira, where Jason, Eli and I spent half of the afternoon building this really cool sand castle/sculpture:



We then stood and defied nature as the tide quickly rose, besieging our monument to man's ability to create.



It was a slow and arduous ordeal -- our fortress withstood many an aquatic bombardment, but once the outer walls were breached it was downhill from there:



And soon enough, it was all over. Nature had played her course, and once again had emerged victorious over the exploits of man.



After that, it was one more day spent in Marrakech, going back to the market, taking it easy, eating at McDonald's because it was the only restaurant nearby that we knew we could trust not to give us an intestinal infection (which is ironic, because in the states McDonald's is probably the restaurant I trust LEAST not to make me sick). Then it was on a plane, and back to Spain.. It felt very strange to feel like I had gotten "home" when I came back here... everything seemed so normal and comfortable - not at all foreign or exotic by comparison with the week I spent in a third world African country.

Morocco: a week spent with sand between my toes

Where to begin?

We spent a week in this country on the Northwest corner of Africa, travelling to various corners of the country, visiting everything from small towns to the Sahara desert to metropolitan centers. It will be hard to formulate all the experiences and impressions I had in one journal entry, but I'll do my best.

Saturday, flew out of Madrid, got to Marrakech and started our 8-hour bus ride to Zagora... wait, here's a map of Morocco so you know where these places are.



So we drove from Marrakech to Ouarzazate the first day, passing through the Atlas mountains:



The views on the way there were incredible. The mountains, valleys.. all the houses are made out of adobe (=dried mud). When we got to Ouarzazate, which is on the outskirts of the desert, we took a walk through an oasis.



After spending the night in Ouarzazate, we departed for Merzouga, which would be our jumping-off point for the desert. We drove out into the Sahara in 4x4s, and arrived at a small village/bed and breakfast that was run by a group of Berbers (Moroccan natives). They treated us like kings: once we got there, they treated us to a feast of Moroccan food (which had already begun taking a toll on my unaccustomed stomach), after which we danced the night away to a group of Moroccan musicians. Here's a picture that was taken of me getting my Morocco on:



We all slept in tents that night



and the next morning were awoken at about 5:15 by the sound of a camel that sounded like it was being eaten alive. I think it was just sick, but it scared everybody out of their minds, and we all started saying things like "Please don't let the desert monster eat me." But once we were up, they put us all on camels, loaded up a caravan and we rode out into the sand dunes



where we watched the sun rise across the Algerian border



From thence it was another long bus trip to Zagora, where we stayed the night, and then took another long trip to Marrakech. On the way there, we stopped to see the biggest Casbah (defined as "an older or native quarter of many cities in northern Africa; the quarter in which the citadel is located") in Morocco. There was a small river/stream that we had to cross to get there, and we were flooded by kids, probably 20 of them, who wanted to help us across. It was nice of them, but once we were on the other side, they all started demanding money. I gave one of them a euro, which I found out we weren't supposed to do, and then the rest of them felt entitled. It was a mess.

That's one of the things about Morocco: it's an extremely poor country. Every time we arrived in one of the small towns, we were flooded with people trying to sell us things, trying to get us to pay them for random things, or just begging. A lot of the time it was children, but sometimes it involved adults too. The children, though, would often be happy with a pen (I suppose because they don't have them for school), so Maricarmen provided us with several hundred at the beginning of the trip.

Anyway, back to the casbah.

We walked through an old, mud-built town (which must have constituted the casbah) and then climbed up to the top of a high hill where the wind was blowing probably 35 miles an hour. The view was gorgeous, though unfortunately I didn't take my camera up there with me. I have some pictures taken by others of us having fun though.

Me posing glamously in the wind with my Moroccan-made turban/scarf:




Here's me outside of the casbah wearing my turban (which Britt wrapped herself -- I'll let you be the judge of if she did a good job or not):


After that it was back on the bus for 3 or 4 more hours until we got to Marrakech, where we spent 3 nights. That part of the trip will constitute PART II of the Morocco update.

Stay tuned.

PS I set up a group gallery at moroccotrip.atpic.com for everybody to post their pictures from the trip -- so far only 2 other people besides me have put anything, but you might like to have a look.

Leaving for Morocco tomorrow

We'll be there for 6 full days. Some highlights that I have to look forward to are:

- Sleeping in the desert
- Riding 4x4's (I think this means Jeeps but it might mean 4-wheel off-roaders) through the sand dunes
- 8-hour bus rides
- Probably being offered money/livestock by some of the Moroccans for some of the girls on the trip (apparently they like blondes)
- All sorts of stuff that I can't even imagine yet.


So wish me luck and excuse my lack of entries for the next week.

Hasta luego.

London, part II

So, I'm going to make a long story short on this one. I have to get up and go to Morocco tomorrow, and I'm not finished packing yet.

Monday was spent doing even more not-necessarily-touristy but perhaps even more fun stuff... though we did go see Big Ben and Westminster Abbey.


(When they say Big Ben is big, they're not kidding around. I got off the tube and looked up and saw it and just laughed. It's like a joke it's so big.)

Westminster Abbey:


I also got a haircut that day.. spending more money than I would have liked to but at least I got to speak English to explain it. I suppose I'm pretty happy.

Oh, and we went to Abbey Road. Here's me crossing the famous crosswalk (you can't tell from that angle it's the famous one, but it definitely is):



We were also able to get (relatively) cheap tickets for a West End (London's equivalent of Broadway) production of Les Miserables.... it was probably the best production of any play I've seen in my life. Really amazing.

So that was Monday, in a nutshell.

Now, our flight back was tuesday morning: early. 6:55 am. Out of Luton, which is an aiport about an hour outside of London. So we needed to catch a train at 4:22 to make it to Luton by about 5:15. Which meant we had to wake up at 3:30 or so.

Well we didn't.

We slept till about 4:30, both of us sleeping through our alarms, and then when I woke up we scrambled to the train station, caught the next train, and got to the airport about 5 minutes before our plane was supposed to leave. They wouldn't let us on. The next flight that had openings (this is on EasyJet, a really thriftily-organized and managed budget airline serving most of Europe) was 24 hours later.

We had to pay a "rescue fee" so that we wouldn't have to buy another flight altogether, and we had to book a hotel in Luton that night (because we didn't want to spend an extra $50 getting to London and back just to book a more expensive hotel there). We were afraid that the town of Luton was going to be a collection of like three buildings thrown up around the aiport... but it wasn't, luckily. It could have been worse, but it was still a very bad day. We got through it though, and had a little extra time to study for the exam the next day (I think I did pretty well. It was a big exam).

So anyway, eventually we got home safe, sound, and a little bit poorer than we would have liked. No worries, though.

London: a dream, a disaster, an experience.

Well, this is going to be another long one.

So about a month ago my friend Britt and I planned a trip to London, because the school gave us a long weekend (Friday-Monday) this week. We both would have liked for more people to have gone, but nobody else was interested, so we went it alone.

First of all, my impressions about the city:

1. It's the most expensive place I've ever been to in my life. The pound is so strong compared to the dollar, and the fact that it's a big city anyway exacerbates the problem. I ended up having to spend a lot more money than I was expecting to (this was partially because of the disaster part of the trip, which I'll get to later). So I'm going to have to try to do what's remaining of this semester on the cheap.

2. It was really nice to go to a country that speaks English. Functioning in society was just so much easier.

3. The city itself is great -- very stylish, very modern, yet at the same time very ancient and rooted in tradition. There are an endless number of things to see, and we only barely cracked the surface.

4. The people are really friendly and helpful. Also, there's a ton of immigrants there.

We left Friday morning, getting to the airport a little later than I would have liked because Britt forgot her passport and had to go back and get it, but early enough. We caught our flight and were in London by around 1. We wandered around a bit, got acquainted with our surroundings, and then left to try to find our hotel. It took a little while, because it's a really small place tucked away in Argyle Square, which is just a big complex of tiny hotels. It was definitely small and quaint -- the room was tiny and didn't have it's own bathroom; we had to go downstairs to use the very... minimalist toilet and shower facilities. But that was fine; we had been planning to book a hostel before we found this place (probably the cheapest "hotel" in London).

So Friday was spent relatively relaxed -- we found a good Turkish restaurant nearby and had dinner, and then set out to find a place to go out, because Friday was St. Patrick's day. We went to a couple bars, and then found a really quaint, authentic Irish pub, filled with people celebrating their patron saint and singing Irish folk songs on the karaoke. It was a lot of fun -- having some beer, talking to Irish and English people. Britt said it meant a lot to her because she's a 2nd generation Scott, and apparently her family did this kind of thing all the time. The night ended with me singing my favorite savage garden song karaoke for the whole bar to hear. It was a song with a lot of lyrics really fast -- called "I Want You" if it sounds familiar to anybody -- and I sang them all without looking at the screen. I remember getting really into it; head back, eyes closed, microphone pressed to my mouth rock-star style. Apparently everybody in the bar was downright transfixed -- "who is this golden karaoke God?" When the song was over and I finally opened my eyes everybody was transfixed and started applauding and cheering.

Afterwards I asked a girl who was taking pictures if she could send them to me:



I know, I know, those people don't exactly looked transfixed. I must have just been warming them up.

After that we kind of stumbled around the streets of London, trying to figure out how the night bus system worked (the tube was already closed). It didn't work -- we had to take a taxi home.

(Editor's note: Unfortunately, I'm not going to have very many good pictures for this trip. As I said, the battery charger that I have blew a fuse the night before I left, and my camera was eating batteries like crazy during the trip. So I only have a few, and they're mostly of Britt cause she kept asking me to take pictures of her).

Saturday we went and walked around downtown, just to see what there was to see -- not necessarily going to any of the touristy spots. We walked through Picadilly street, around the theatre area (we tried to get half-price tickets but they were all sold out for that night). Britt got a haircut at a too-expensive salon, and we just did what we could find to do. We passed by a huge anti-war protest downtown, which apparently made international headlines.



Saturday night we went to a movie at the Ritzy -- a famous, art-house, independent theatre in London, and saw a movie that was okay, I guess.

Sunday we got up and headed down to all the cool spots: London Tower, the south bank, the Globe (a reacreation that is; the original globe burned down in the 17th century -- this one was built in 1997), The Tate museum, and so forth.

An exhibition inside the Tate:


The Tower of London (where Richard III had his nephews imprisoned and killed and where the crown jewels currently reside):


Tower Bridge (much more impressive than London bridge):


Sunday night was actually spent studying because we had an exam today covering basically the entirety of Spanish history, literature and society. I think I did okay.

TO BE CONTINUED... INCLUDING THE PART WHERE IT GETS REALLY MESSY. STAY TUNED.

Cheers, mate.

(PS we're leaving for Morocco Saturday. We'll be there for a week).

A very long day

Yesterday was a day that lasted about 22 hours -- beginning at 7:30 AM as I woke up to get ready for our day trip to the towns of Avila and Segovia, and ending at about 5:30 AM as I finally rolled into bed after a long night of bar-hopping, dancing, and intesive Spanish-speaking.

Avila and Segovia are nice towns, both very small. Each has its own prominent monument for which it is widely known -- Avila's is the medieval wall that has surrounded the town since I think the 11th century, protecting it from Moorish invaders. Segovia's is even more ancient and impressive than that -- gigantic Roman aqueducts, presumably dating from about the 2nd or third century.

Part of the Avila wall:


The aqueducts at Segovia:


Me and Britt marvelling at the aqueducts at Segovia:


We got back from that trip at about 7, having spent 2-3 hours in each city and a good bit of time on the bus in between. After I got home, I took a one-hour nap (I only got about 5 hours of sleep the night before), then got up and had dinner, and afterwards went with my host brother Dario to meet his friend Bruno and Britt to go bar-hopping. At the first bar we went to, which was way out of the way, I ran into one of my supervisors at MAP magazine, which was an incredible coincidences (of which I've already had numerous since I've been here). Then we went to another bar, then took a long train ride to another, where we stayed for a few hours. Bruno and Dario both have good taste in music, as well as an insider's knowledge of the best venues around Madrid. We stayed at the last one till it closed at 4, listening to 70's and 80's rock, asking the DJ to play some good songs, etc. The best part was just spending the whole night speaking Spanish with people who don't really speak English (although Bruno speaks a bit). It's the kind of practice that I really need and I'm glad I'm getting. Britt has actually had sort of a thing for Bruno since a couple weeks ago when we first went out, and they've been sort of courting each other via mix CD's ever since.

After the club closed we took a night bus to Plaza de Cibeles, where the whole network of night buses connects, and I took another one that took me right to the casa. An eventful and really fun day.

In other news, I quit my second internship, with TBS The Broadsheet, after not having gone in for a couple weeks and finding not having two jobs very relieving.

Now it's time to study.