Week 3.
Dad comes Friday morning.
Barcelona 1 week.
Mom&Jae 2.5 weeks.
Home sweet home 3.5 weeks.
FREAKING OUT.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Friday, May 15, 2009
Smile and wave, smile and wave
I'll be on a plane back to California in less than a month! See you guys soon.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Campeones, campeones!
Last weekend were the parties of my little town and they were truly amazing. Some of the best days I've had here. The rumor that the Spanish now how to throw a party ain't no lie. They basically set up a fair, with rides and food stands and everything. But more fun than any of that were the "peñas" which are friends that form a group, give it a name, make shirts, have their own little house with a bar and couches and even build a car for the peña car races. I wasn't actually in one but I knew/met so many people. They're all very nice and welcoming to the foreigners.
Here are videos of the car races. My favorite peña, with my favorite boys, won.
Here are videos of the car races. My favorite peña, with my favorite boys, won.
Saturday, April 25, 2009
Brits and Italians and Retiro...oh my!
Fi, Steph, Tom and Phil from Southwest London, Francesco from Italy, and the two girls from California. It's amazing the wonderful groups that form on any hot sunny day in the Retiro. I've never had so much fun in my life than with the foreigners I've met here. We may be from different parts of the world but we all have one thing in common: the excitement of a new city right beneath our feet, just waiting to be explored.
Although leaving will be a very bittersweet day, the comfort of knowing I have new places to go and amazing friends to reunite with is enough.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
Monday, April 13, 2009
Sunday, April 5, 2009
Fotos para todos!
Plaza Espana, statue of Don Quixote.
Lucy can't wink.
AHHHHHHH!!!!! (It was a lot scarier in person).
Mmmmm Paella (it was a lot better in person).
Feed the birds...
Lucy can't wink.
AHHHHHHH!!!!! (It was a lot scarier in person).
Mmmmm Paella (it was a lot better in person).
Feed the birds...
Thursday, April 2, 2009
Things to ponder
As I tend to be taking advantage of the useful forms of public transportation, some thoughts can't seem to keep out of my mind.
#1-Metro:
There's always a steady mixture of people standing and sitting, according to popularity of the chosen metro line. And in each compartment of the metro there's a list of rules on the wall. The sitting people are obliged to give up their seat for anyone with a small child/pregnant and elders. The tricky part is figuring out what age is considered "elder"? Usually I base it on the hair color and number or wrinkles. Some are obvious but others I'm not quite sure about. A man with white hair but steady, strong posture, a wrinkled face yet full head of healthy, brown hair...etc. I run the risk of giving up my seat and offending someone or not giving up my seat and breaking some poor old mans knees. As a fear of facing these complicated choices I have created a rule for myself that I will not take a seat unless there are at least three others open.
#2-Bus:
Has anyone else noticed how a bus resembles a sort of life cycle (minus birth and death)? I really don't understand what's so appealing and "cool" about the back of the bus but there's definitely something that makes you feel out of the popular kid group if you don't sit there with all the other "jovenes". I remember in the beginning when a seat was just a seat to me, but I was obviously the bus newbie. When people started asking me why I sat so far up and laughing I realized that seat selection is like some funny display of popularity and rank. More logically, the front of the bus is occupied by the elders. Less far to walk, easier to complain to the bus driver about the radio music and the less than perfect temperature...etc. The significance of the front seats for elders holds the same significance as the back for the teenagers, they have their own front seat cult, and it's quiet odd and very rare to see an elder beyond the third or fourth row. Moving on, the middle section of seats, not suprisingly, is occupied by the middle aged people. Not much to say about them. It's where they belong. Finally, the bus driver is God. Controlling everything (well the bus at least). And not promising heaven but a safe trip to our desired destination. And not saving our souls just taking our money. But it's pretty close don't ya think?
#1-Metro:
There's always a steady mixture of people standing and sitting, according to popularity of the chosen metro line. And in each compartment of the metro there's a list of rules on the wall. The sitting people are obliged to give up their seat for anyone with a small child/pregnant and elders. The tricky part is figuring out what age is considered "elder"? Usually I base it on the hair color and number or wrinkles. Some are obvious but others I'm not quite sure about. A man with white hair but steady, strong posture, a wrinkled face yet full head of healthy, brown hair...etc. I run the risk of giving up my seat and offending someone or not giving up my seat and breaking some poor old mans knees. As a fear of facing these complicated choices I have created a rule for myself that I will not take a seat unless there are at least three others open.
#2-Bus:
Has anyone else noticed how a bus resembles a sort of life cycle (minus birth and death)? I really don't understand what's so appealing and "cool" about the back of the bus but there's definitely something that makes you feel out of the popular kid group if you don't sit there with all the other "jovenes". I remember in the beginning when a seat was just a seat to me, but I was obviously the bus newbie. When people started asking me why I sat so far up and laughing I realized that seat selection is like some funny display of popularity and rank. More logically, the front of the bus is occupied by the elders. Less far to walk, easier to complain to the bus driver about the radio music and the less than perfect temperature...etc. The significance of the front seats for elders holds the same significance as the back for the teenagers, they have their own front seat cult, and it's quiet odd and very rare to see an elder beyond the third or fourth row. Moving on, the middle section of seats, not suprisingly, is occupied by the middle aged people. Not much to say about them. It's where they belong. Finally, the bus driver is God. Controlling everything (well the bus at least). And not promising heaven but a safe trip to our desired destination. And not saving our souls just taking our money. But it's pretty close don't ya think?
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Don't forget it
I never realized until now that letter writing is a form of self discovery. While writing a novel of a letter to my Grandma, I became surprised at some of the thoughts that got spilled onto the paper. Although it can be quite tedious trying to express yourself through the slow process of pen and paper, the end feeling is exhilarating. Similar to the feeling after a couple hours at the gym. And the physical image of several full pages of good ‘ol fashion handwriting is really kind of beautiful. It reminds me of grade school days when my teacher(s) took so seriously every cursive letter, and made us copy down pages of stories until our hands cramped and fingers turned purplish red. I feel somewhat guilty looking at my awkward mixture of sloppy cursive and printing, like somehow I’ve let them down after all those years of practice. I wonder if these days teachers are still so avid about teaching handwriting, for some reason I think not. Maybe I should feel lucky that I was born into a generation when computers where just becoming the next huge form of communication, and some people still appreciated the original forms of communication. One thing is for sure, the feeling of mystery and excitement that comes along with receiving a letter is something I have never felt with any email or sms.
The first page and a half of the letter to my Grandma:
Dearest Grandma,
I feel terrible that it had taken so long to write. Writing letters is extra hard for me, but I know they are so much more fulfilling than writing an email, not to mention much more exciting to receive. So I will try my best to express myself through pen and paper.
It’s hard to explain what this whole experience means to me. I would need someone inside my mind, knowing exactly what I’m thinking and feeling, for it to all make sense. Although you, of everybody I know, would understand best the need to explore the unknown. I’m not even sure myself what motivated me to come here. I wasn’t unhappy, I didn’t have any problems I needed to run-away from, even the fact that I would mostly likely become fluent in Spanish didn’t hit me until after I decided (it just seems like an added bonus). It’s like I had itchy feet. I wanted something I’d never had before-something new. I wanted to know I could be self-sufficient. To know that I don’t have to rely on somebody else to control how I feel. I wanted a cultured form of independence. A new way of life that I could explore and study and eventually conform to, on my own time. Although I have conformed, I am still very much an outsider, a stranger. I will always be “the girl from California”. I absolutely adore the people I’ve met here. They are unlike anyone else I will every meet, yet I will always feel like the “foreigner” to them. Which I’m okay with. In fact, I think I will feel similar with my friends from Santa Rosa when I return home. In my opinion, if you live in the same place for a long period of time, you start thinking that the rest of the world can’t be much different than your little corner. I think that’s how I was starting to feel before I left, but I knew in my heart that there was so, so much of the world to see, so much knowledge to gain and so many beautiful thing to appreciate outside of my little corner. So maybe I came here for proof of that. And now that I’ve lived as a student, daughter, friend and citizen in a foreign country, I will always have this secret knowledge that I won’t be able to relate to anyone who hasn’t experienced it for themselves. Of course I’ll share stories and memories with others, but they will never truly understand the difficulties, excitement, fear, happiness and all the crazy emotions and moments that I’ve experienced here. I know before I left people had they’re opinions about me being too young and unprepared to embark on a journey like this, but I think that if I was much older I wouldn’t have such an open perspective. It’s true that I have the majority of my life ahead of me to travel and explore, but I want to do that now, with the person I am now. Once I return home and this experience is behind me, in the past, I know that it will always be with me, part of me something that nobody can take away. And that is better than any prize I can think of-the feeling of completion and pride that I was able to free myself of everything I was comfortable with and survive. But don’t worry G-ma, I’m not all that changed, still your same ol’ Susie Bell, except with a nice Spanish vocabulary and a stronger sense of self. You know, none of this would have been possible without all the amazing people in my life, whom I have gained a profound respect for. It really is ridiculous how lucky I am, and I will never forget it.
The first page and a half of the letter to my Grandma:
Dearest Grandma,
I feel terrible that it had taken so long to write. Writing letters is extra hard for me, but I know they are so much more fulfilling than writing an email, not to mention much more exciting to receive. So I will try my best to express myself through pen and paper.
It’s hard to explain what this whole experience means to me. I would need someone inside my mind, knowing exactly what I’m thinking and feeling, for it to all make sense. Although you, of everybody I know, would understand best the need to explore the unknown. I’m not even sure myself what motivated me to come here. I wasn’t unhappy, I didn’t have any problems I needed to run-away from, even the fact that I would mostly likely become fluent in Spanish didn’t hit me until after I decided (it just seems like an added bonus). It’s like I had itchy feet. I wanted something I’d never had before-something new. I wanted to know I could be self-sufficient. To know that I don’t have to rely on somebody else to control how I feel. I wanted a cultured form of independence. A new way of life that I could explore and study and eventually conform to, on my own time. Although I have conformed, I am still very much an outsider, a stranger. I will always be “the girl from California”. I absolutely adore the people I’ve met here. They are unlike anyone else I will every meet, yet I will always feel like the “foreigner” to them. Which I’m okay with. In fact, I think I will feel similar with my friends from Santa Rosa when I return home. In my opinion, if you live in the same place for a long period of time, you start thinking that the rest of the world can’t be much different than your little corner. I think that’s how I was starting to feel before I left, but I knew in my heart that there was so, so much of the world to see, so much knowledge to gain and so many beautiful thing to appreciate outside of my little corner. So maybe I came here for proof of that. And now that I’ve lived as a student, daughter, friend and citizen in a foreign country, I will always have this secret knowledge that I won’t be able to relate to anyone who hasn’t experienced it for themselves. Of course I’ll share stories and memories with others, but they will never truly understand the difficulties, excitement, fear, happiness and all the crazy emotions and moments that I’ve experienced here. I know before I left people had they’re opinions about me being too young and unprepared to embark on a journey like this, but I think that if I was much older I wouldn’t have such an open perspective. It’s true that I have the majority of my life ahead of me to travel and explore, but I want to do that now, with the person I am now. Once I return home and this experience is behind me, in the past, I know that it will always be with me, part of me something that nobody can take away. And that is better than any prize I can think of-the feeling of completion and pride that I was able to free myself of everything I was comfortable with and survive. But don’t worry G-ma, I’m not all that changed, still your same ol’ Susie Bell, except with a nice Spanish vocabulary and a stronger sense of self. You know, none of this would have been possible without all the amazing people in my life, whom I have gained a profound respect for. It really is ridiculous how lucky I am, and I will never forget it.
Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Shoot.
I guess my spirited blog entry didn't do much good. Real Madrid lost 4-0 to Liverpool. Ah, oh well. Luckily I'm not a die-hard fan yet, so it didn't really affect me.
Weather in Madrid today: 19° Celsius. Goodbye winter!
Weather in Madrid today: 19° Celsius. Goodbye winter!
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
I've been converted...
"Un pasión...
Un deporte...
Un sueño...
Un equipo."
Tonight: Real Madrid Vs. Liverpool, Champions League.
Vamos chicos!
Un deporte...
Un sueño...
Un equipo."
Tonight: Real Madrid Vs. Liverpool, Champions League.
Vamos chicos!
Tuesday, March 3, 2009
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
Things you might find in Madrid
seductive bus-drivers, policemen jacking joints, cigarette vending-machines, fútbol "hooligans", extreme hot-chocolate with churros, nationlism, black market, crystal chandeliers in McDonald's, lisps, siestas, "tortilla" holiday, exposed breasts on TV (for free!), Bob Marley impersonators.
Sunday, February 8, 2009
Friday, February 6, 2009
Thursday, February 5, 2009
patient, restless, free
I’ve come to a stage in my stay here where I’ve stopped pondering of what is going on back home. It’s been this way for awhile. My life here is just so...”life-ish”. I don’t feel like a stranger. Even though my Spanish isn’t perfect, and my family isn’t really a family to me, sometimes I forget that I’m going back to my real home in four months. I’m so enveloped and submerged into life here. It’s very saddening to think about all of this being taken away once I leave. I feel like I’ll always be missing something when I don’t have what I have here. That’s the whiplash of this whole experience I guess.
Enough serious talk.
Funny fact: My gym. I can’t decide whether to compare it to a gay porno or Animal Planet. Lots of: muscles, man on man contact, grunting, crouching, pulling, lifting, chugging, devouring, and untamed hormones (all crammed into two tiny rooms). Enough said.
Enough serious talk.
Funny fact: My gym. I can’t decide whether to compare it to a gay porno or Animal Planet. Lots of: muscles, man on man contact, grunting, crouching, pulling, lifting, chugging, devouring, and untamed hormones (all crammed into two tiny rooms). Enough said.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Wooly Mammoth
Four and a half months with no haircut! Madre mia. Literally a mane. Bringing out the "leo" in me...
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