bellas artes and bohemian rhapsody

my weekend was quite odd, quite pleasant, and unabashedly European. I woke up on friday very late, missing school, because my phone died rending my alarm clock, well, dead. at two, the day was over, school was over. Loli, my host mother, chastisedme for my tardiness and failure to enjoy the coffee she daily prepared me. of course, given my rudimentary understanding of spanish, and my so-so verbalization skills, i got away with a repeated "i'm sorry, it won't ever happen again, please, i'm sorry"

what to do for the rest of the day? i was well-slept, no need for a nap, which is what i usually took care of at this hour. i put on makeup, a new dress, some leggings, and scurried out the door. determined to walk around until dark, feeling nerdy by spanish standards for my lack of "marchosa" or party-girl-ness. i walked down to Sierpes

, a main shopping street in seville, and comfortably window shopped for a few hours. upon reaching the end of sierpes, i realized i was near Corte Ingles, a massive enormous department store that houses literally everything. there are five floors, the bottom boasts a supermarket, the second gleams with what seems like miles of design

er makeup, and the top three sell clothes. across the plaza from "big" Corte Ingles is another Corte Ingles that has electronics, art supplies, cameras, books, all kinds of stuff. i explored for another few hours.

there were few things that truly differenciated Corte Ingles from a regular supermarket/supermall/department store. in one clothes floor, there was a whole enormous section devoted entirely to flamenco dresses. expensive, highly ruffled, flamboyently colored party dresses.

after being introduced to some makeup that cost upwards of a hundred euros, i fled to the books section. the selection for english books was disheartening. however after a moment's pause i purchased a massive biography on Michael Jackson. halfway through it i now realize...HE LIVES!!

anyways, i checked out the supermarket section and was stunned to discover more kinds of meat on display than i had ever witnessed. the seafood section alone was enough to beat HEB's paltry display to a pulp then take it's mom out to dinner. clams, fishes, octopi, stingrays, sharks, even monster sea creatures i have no name for. only the grocery store's i had visited in mexico could begin to compare.

after Corte Ingles i stubbornly decided to experience some culture. i found my way to plaza museo, where the Museo de Bellas Artes was located. I spent a good two hours analyzing and taking furtive pictures of the amazing artwork. hardly anyone else was there, besides several portly mustached security guards (who clearly weren't doing their job as i "stole" over 80 pictures of fascinating and expert artwork). the realism and atonement of the christian images contrasted with several paintings that displayed, quite acutely, the trials of the working class or peasants. anyways i could probably do a whole post of the Bellas Artes but not now. i include a few random pics, not my favorites, but they're interesting nonetheless.

one of the many images of virgin mary and son

something vaguely impressionist? i like it, especially the water

a movie theater and watched Black Swan again, in spanish. it was just as freaky and beautiful the second time around, perhaps more so because rather than focusing on the script i paid attention to the well-executed cinematography and acting, i knew exactly what was going on, and cringed twice as much because of it.

that evening, after i returned home and ate dinner, i recieved several phone calls alerting me to the plans for that evening among the CIEE exchange students. we were to meet in plaza san salvador and hang out, passing time as is the spanish way. after getting dressed, slashing on some red lipstick, applying all the necessary dazzle, i escaped out the door at 10:35. Reaching salvador fifteen minutes later, i was disheartened to realize my friends were already immersed in a conversation, the type that would be really obnoxious to interrupt. ya know the type? so i was elated when a guy beside me struck up a conversation, in spanish. eventually, he and his friends began clapping and singing flamenco-style songs as i danced in my best sitting-down imitation of a flamenco dancer. the other girls in their group followed my lead and soon we were the loudest, merriest group sitting on the steps in salvador plaza.

later, one guy from new york suggested karioke. quickly we followed his suggestion and the next thing i knew i was sitting with some new friends in a karioke bar, being urged from my chair by two spanish girls on the stage. i sang shakira's "she-wolf" in spanish, blinding reading from the teleprompter, as Estrella and Natalia sang superfast and accurately from memory.

after this show, about six heart-wrenching spanish ballads later, crooned by middle-aged men and teenage girls alike, i returned to the stage accompanied by three new york college men. together we brought down the house with a shrill, hearty, powerful, inept, enthusiastic rendering of Bohemian Rhapsody by Queen. Natalia took a video with her camera, and i certain that when or if it is ever displayed, i will be both highly humiliated and proud of the images.

we shared a taxi home after our song, and then i was saying a fond farewell to my new friends.

a truly memorable day and night in sevilla, spain.

futbol

today i played soccer for one hour with a bunch of 12 year old boys. it was, without a doubt, the most exercise i have gotten in over six months. luckily my hard work and determination, as well as my eventually willingness to bodyslam anyone shorter than me into the ground, awarded me much respect amongst my midget crowd. i scored four gols. my hand hurt from all the high fives i recieved. although, it should be mentioned, the goalposts were sideways desks, the playing field was half of a gym, and the ball was a soft green nerf. HOWEVER, i was so skilled, i was nominated their power forward or whatever. that "agressive player that plows everyone else aside to force the nerfball beneath the desk". ya know.

interestingly, this volunteer job requires me to ride a bike for thirty minutes, then a bus for another twenty. i rent my bicycle from a convenient red kiosk, one of many located throughout the city. wide green paths are marked specifically for bicycles, and when i'm a normal pedestrian, i frequently get yelled at for straying into this bicycle lane. quite a few times i've been so spaced out that i've actually met a screaming bicyclist face to face, handlebar to hands. however as a bicyclist myself, i've become quite adept at veering my bike away from stupid idiot walkers, and staying within my nice green road.

tapas and maps

after i finally arrive, i am exhausted. someone once told me that if you stay awake for three days, you begin to hallucinate, and honestly i felt as i were in a dream. after arriving, without luggage and a day late to my program, i was immediantly escorted to torre del orro where my tour began. there are about eighteen other students in my program, and more than half are year-long students, meaning they know each other and the city quite well already. already there is dissonce between us, a distinct line between the veterans and the noobies, however most are funny and nice and welcoming, just established in their patterns and friendships.

walking around seville for the first time, as i mentioned before, was unreal. the city was like old black and white films of paris, bustling with the vigor of new york, romantic and beautiful and picturesque in a way that struck my sleep-deprived mind as ethereal and dreamy. we ate tapas together, delicious plates bombarded our table, one after the other, chicken, rice, coquettes, and i vibrated with hunger and exhaustion, unable to communicate well, fearing being left out unless i attempted conversation. after tapas we went to flamenco, again i imagined i was hallucinating again, with a studly serious man wearing vivid red high heels stomping furiously on a platform to the beat and croon of spanish guitarist. his heels stomped louder faster, furiously and his hands danced flamboyently, not ceasing even to push his shiny curls from his face. as he twirled, my body gave out, too much, too soon. i abandoned flamenco, my guides, and my fellow students, and attempted to find my way home.

after an arduous and byzantine trek, i found my appartment, crashed in my tiny twin bed, and slept, almost missing the bus tour the next morning.

the day was long, not boring, and brimming with too many striking sights to name. that evening, my friend emily james and i accompanied our other friends matt and louise out on the town. they live across the river of seville, while we live near each other, on the edge of the city. after finding one another, we broke the conversational ice over hookah, then later found a cafe and continued our midnight conversations. after arriving home at two, i realized i could sleep for only five hours before i had my first day of spanish school.

thus far school is enjoyable. there are six nationalities represented in a room of ten people. australia, korea, japan, denmark, switzerland, and cananda. the japanese women are the most funny, and our entire class vibrates with energy, a group of people all learning and struggling and living in a foreign country.